Poker Face, or The Curious Case of the Smiling Thief
by AliceRed1878
Summary: She's never been caught. They don't even know her name. Everything about her, everything she is, is a mystery. But none of that matters. The point is to catch her at all costs. Easier said than done, Koenma.
1. Prologue

"_Izin! Izin!" She cradled her friend's bleeding body close to her, one hand firmly pressed against the gaping wound in his abdomen. _

_It was no good, no use. There was no way for her to stop the bleeding. He was losing too much too quickly._

"_Don't screaming so loud, squirt," he chuckled. "It's not the end of the world, just mine." _

"_What the hell am I supposed to do?" She looked around their small two room hut for something, anything to staunch the blood just long enough for her to drag him to the nearest healer. Her _

_Izin put her brown eye scanning. To say that she was desperate was an understatement and to say that she wasn't scared would be a lie. Who else but Izin was supposed to take care of her? He was the only one who she..._

"_Save your tears for the pillow, sweetheart, when nobody can see them." Izin's voice was fading. _

_His cold finger wiped away the tear that she had unknowingly let escape from her eye. _

"_You're not dying on me, stupid! Do you hear me?" _

_Izin shook his head, his long black hair falling to cover half his face in similar fashion to her own. She leaned over a little bit to move it out of his face so she could see his eyes for one last time. _

"_Thanks," he tried to sit up straight, but the pain was too much for him. With a choking cough and a sputter of blood, Izin fell again, hitting his head hard against the wall behind him. He gently shook his head again. "There's no point in trying to deny what's gonna happen to me, kiddo. There's nothing you can do to save me." _

_The girl opened her mouth to refute his claim, but quickly shut her mouth. Izin's hand touched her cheek. _

"_But there's one thing you can do for me, if you're willing to fulfill a dying man's last request." _

"_Anything!" She answered quickly. "I'll do anything!" _

_Izin chuckled at her eagerness. "If you want to avenge me, find the man with the Jagan eye. That's who killed me."_

_Her dark brows furrowed. "What? What's a Jagan eye?"_

_He couldn't reply, too busy coughing up more blood. _

"_I..can't...I don't have...there's not much time left. You'll have...to...find out..on...your...owwwn." Izin's life force slowly evaporated into thin air. The last breath left him. Life faded from his black eyes. _

_It took the young woman several minutes to realize what had happened, though she could not come to terms with it. Accepting change was never a knack she owned. She shook his shoulders, even slapped him across the face. There was no moment. No sound. No life. He was gone, and the sooner she accepted that the better. _

"_Izin! Izin! Izin!" _

Nine Months Later

Her heels clicked on marble flooring. One hand stuffed in the pocket of her low-cut, tight-fitting jacket, the other carried the brief which contained the _goods_ promised to her employer. The job was almost done. The butler who was escorting her had glanced at her more than once. One time was a common response, but more than two glances were enough to cause suspicion. He eyed her face, which was curious. Usually men had their eyes drawn further down.

"I know that you keep looking at me, I suggest that you stop it. I don't mind if you look occasionally, but you're just not being very subtle." She laughed.

"S-sorry, Ma'am."

"I get it a lot actually. People find my face to be a bit.._unnerving_."

The butler said nothing else after that. He silently escorted her to the master's study. He entered first and announced her before she entered herself before the butler could fetch the door. He ducked behind the closed the door, leaving her and her employer alone.

He was a wealthy Japanese business, a human too. He looked like all the rest. Middle aged, graying, slightly wrinkled face, smoked like a chimney. Not that she should be the one to talk. She smoked cigarettes on a daily basis, sometimes a whole pack in a day. This one looked a little younger than the others before. He was handsome, she had to admit.

"Do you have what I asked for?"

She lifted up the brief case. "I don't get paid if I brought an empty case."

"I am not fool." His cold dark eyes narrowed. "Open it."

The young woman shrugged her shoulders. She walked a little further and put the lead-lined suit case on the large oak desk that was compensating for something. She made quick work of the dials and locks. They clicked with a flick of her dexterous fingers and the hinges creaked when she popped open the lid. She spun the suit case around so her client could see the package he ordered.

A glass cylinder stopped up with thick metal lids was nestled carefully in the black velvet lining, like a pillow. The contents of the aforementioned cylinder drifted in a gelatinous, slime-green fluid. You know, the kind you see in stereotypical monster movies, the kind of muck monsters are born in. Speaking of which, her client, Mr. Watanashi had been greedy and impatient enough to pry the canister out of the suit case himself to inspect the item more closely. What lay drifting like a corpse in a river in the goo-like fluid was a black clawed hand sporting three fingers and a thumb. She wasn't sure what this business wanted with a nasty relic of some demon she never heard of before, but she wasn't one to judge someone else's hobbies either.

"Does it pass inspection, Mr. Watanashi?"

He nodded, putting the gruesome trophy in the middle of his desk. "You accept cash only, if I remember correctly right?"

"That's the only way I do it." Her smile grew wider as she extended her hand, palm open, towards him.

Watanashi opened a locked drawer in his desk, a safety deposit box, it would seem. He didn't know it, but she was watching him with her _special eye_ hidden behind her hair. And with that _special eye_, she saw the numbers he turned the dial on the lock, saving it for future reference. He pulled out a metal box and flipped it open. The lid _clanged_ against the wood desk, not that he seemed to mind. Watanashi shuffled through the bills. He counted them in his palm before handing the wad of cash into her waiting hand.

"It was a pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Watanashi and please keep the suit case." She stuffed the money, which should have amounted to a little over twelve million yen, into her pants pocket. Tipping her hat politely, she spun on her heels and began to take her leave.

"May I ask one question of you before you go?" Mr. Watanashi never struck her as a curious man, which was why the hairs raised on the back of her neck.

She stopped mid-stride. Looking over her shoulder, she saw Mr. Watanashi stand up and place one hand on top of his new prize.

"Can I have a name? In case I need your _expertise_ again."

She laughed. "Oh, sorry sweetie. I don't leave calling cards. If I started doing that, then it'd be nothing but work, work, work, all the time. I like to indulge in my hobbies now and then and doing this sort of thing would just hinder me from doing what I love."

"Are you sure? I can't even have a nickname or a code name you go by?"

"Poker Face."

She watched his brows bunch in confusion. "Excuse me?"

"Poker Face," she repeated. "That's what my friends call me, if I had any. I'm afraid that's all I can leave with you, sweetie."

"Don't call me that." Watanashi barked.

"Sorry." No she wasn't. "Force of habit." She left after blowing him a kiss.


	2. Ch 1: Smooth Criminal

Koenma stared angrily at the paused video before him. He was leaning far too close to the screen than was appropriate for his eyes. The scene before mocked him. No, she was mocking him. There was never a clear image of her face. She was smart enough to keep her face away from any of the cameras. She was smart, fast, and dangerous, a very deadly combination for a woman. Because they couldn't get a clear image of her, he couldn't very well place a name on her. Yoko Kurama, King of Bandits, eat your heart out.

"Sir?" George the ogre stood with a file and another video tape in his hand.

"Not now."

"But sir."

"Not now ogre."

"But sir, we might have found something." He handed the prince the other VHS tape.

Koenma turned, snatched the tape from him, and replaced with the one that had been playing. Sure enough on the new video, the thief was strutting down a dimly lit corridor decorated with the bodies of security guards. Ogres were sprawled out on the floors like rag dolls. Some had bullet-sized holes in them, others were sliced up. Playing cards were scattered everywhere. Some were stuck inside the back of one dead ogre.

"Watch closely," George pointed his clawed finger at the screen.

Koenma swatted his hand away so he could see better. This woman had become the bane of his existence. She always hid her face, which was a clear indication that she was that good. She used thin plates of metal sharp enough to tear through an ogre's flesh like paper and paint them like playing cards. She had earrings she could turn into guns. And once the deed was done, she would saunter out of the safe or high security vault. What really ticked him off was the fact that she looked so pleased with herself afterwards. All other cases were on hold until she was caught.

A miracle happened. So god or goddess of fortune smiled on him that day. The woman in video dropped something, she stooped down to pick it up. It must have been a hair pin because she pushed it into her hair while the cursed ruby medallion dangled from the crook of her arm. This was her first and last mistake. As she cocked her head slightly to put the hairpin back where she wanted it, she accidentally showed her good side towards the nearest operating camera. Pausing the video, Koenma could finally glare at the smooth, perhaps now not so smooth, criminal.

She was young. Her age was a little difficult to estimate because of her sophisticated make-up and her ridiculous high heeled shoes, but he could guess that she was in her early to mid-twenties. Her copper hair was worn in a half-braid down her left shoulder and much of it covered that side of her face. A black fedora tilted just a little helped keep some of her hair in place while pins did the rest of the work. The suits that she wore couldn't have been expensive, not if she knew she could get blood on them. It was either that or she had several suits in the same color. Alas for the dry cleaners who could benefit from her business, the thief's speciality seemed to be in killing opponents at a long distance. Her long range arsenal of weapons made her a priority to catch.

"We have a face now, great. Do we have anything else?"

George handed him the thin folder. Koenma flicked it open, but was sorely disappointed in the contents of the folder. There were about three pages inside. A photograph taken from the video footage was paper-clipped to the first page. This first page contained the basic physical characteristics that the ogres could pick out from the video. The video evidence gave a somewhat vague description of the culprit. She was Japanese, or at the very least Asian. If it wasn't for that hairpin, they wouldn't have found that out. Her hair had been bleached and dyed that rich copper color. They estimated her height to be no more than six feet, but that was also accounting for the high heels. Her eye color was dark, possibly dark green, brown, or black. The video camera couldn't get close enough to distinguish the color of her visible eye. Her speciality was long-range weaponry. She seemed to favored her special 'playing cards' as well.

The rest of the report went on to connect her to a string of robberies in the last several months. At each scene of the crime there were three things: playing cards, bullet holes, and a missing treasure. Her motives were widdled down to greed and nothing more. However, many of the items that were stolen were ones that would imbue its owner with power and no normal demon would pass up the chance to use something like it. Yet, according to the report, there was no indication that the thief was using the magical items. Was she just hoarding them or did she plan to sell them on the black market to unsuspecting humans and power hungry demons? If she wasn't using the items for herself, then at least Koenma could sigh with relief that she wasn't one of _those _demons that stole things to become more powerful. That didn't seem to fit her MO. She was moved by greed, not power. It did make more sense if she sold the stolen items to those who would use them for nefarious purposes.

Koenma slammed the folder closed. He grabbed it and waved it in George's face.

"Is this the best we have? This woman's been a real thorn in my side for the past six, seven, months! She's good. Too good, and until you bring me something remotely useful you're going to be transferred over to feeding the corpse-eaters!"

"B-but sir, those things can only eat..." George nearly jumped twelve feet into the air.

"Dead bodies, yes." Koenma said grimly, glaring at the ogre. "Imagine that."

George swallowed hard, sweating as only a nervous wreck would.

* * *

_Knock, knock_

"Come in," Poker Face adjusted her hair so that the left side of her face was hidden.

The bathroom door creaked open. She had no sense of embarrassment even as she continued to lather herself up with a sponge and expensive jasmine soap.

"Did I come at a bad time?" Her guest asked.

"No, no, sweetie. Just have seat over there, Mr. Sakyo." She pointed her suds-covered arm to the pastel covered arm chair sitting in the corner of her enormous hotel bathroom.

"I can wait outside if you want."

"Oh no, I couldn't have that, Mr. Sakyo. If you came all this way to see me, I would hate to waste your time by making you wait."

Sakyo shrugged his shoulders. He made his way towards the chair she pointed to and sat down. Rummaging through his suit jacket, he pulled out a cigarette and a lighter. He was about to put it to his lips when Poker Face turned to him.

"I'd rather you not smoke in my hotel room, Mr. Sakyo. Paying extra for that privilege is such a pain. Do you think you could wait until after our _business meeting_ to have a smoke?"

He took the cigarette and lighter away for now. "Do you know why I called on you?"

Poker Face giggled and put away her sponge in the fancy soap dish hanging on the wall just above the marble tub with golden lion-clawed feet. The water sloshed around her as she moved to lean a little bit against the edge of the tub. Her lean body was covered from the neck down in bubbles and slippery suds. He would be liar if he said that he wouldn't have his way with this woman. She folded one arm across her chest while the other was thrown off the edge. Water dripped down from her arm and body as she leaned forward.

"You mean you didn't come all this way for a friendly visit? That hurts Mr. Sakyo, it really does." She chuckled.

"I have a job for you."

"Oh."

"And it's not the usual kind..."

Poker Face sighed playfully. "I keep telling you, no matter how much money your offer, I'm not going to sleep with you."

"Would you, even if you weren't paid?" Sakyo decided to play along. Business with this woman went so much easier when she was in a good mood.

Poker Face gave him a long once-over, eyeing him from head to toe. She looked appreciatively, but never gave an answer other than a seductive, confident smirk.

"I would like you to do something else for me. I need you to gauge the strength of a certain _group_ I'm interested in."

Bored now, she went back to washing herself.

"Oh. What kind of group?"

"A rag tag team of teenage boys who hunt demons."

"Is that all," she laughed. "Doesn't like much fun."

"There's two humans on this team, but there is a demon you would be interested in."

"What makes you say that?" Slowly raising her leg above the water and stretching to wash her foot with the sponge.

"The other two are demons. A fox demon trapped in a human body and the other is a fire apparition with a jagan."

The sponge slipped out of Poker Face's hand. Not that she noticed.

"A _jaganshi_, you say." Her smile widened immediately to where Sakyo thought her face would overstretch and snap out of place. "Well, why didn't you say something earlier?"

Sakyo rose from his seat and crossed the length of the bathroom. He stopped directly in front of the tub and stared at her face. His hand reached out, fingers lightly touching her right cheek. His fingers tried to dive underneath the veil of hair, but she was much too fast for him. Poker Face caught his wrist and held it in a vice grip. With her other hand, she grabbed onto his silk tie and pulled him close to her face. Their lips were so close they might have kissed.

"No one looks underneath _there_." Her wide smile made her appear all the more insane, especially when her eye was pealed open wide.

"Call me curious."

"You know that curiosity killed the cat?"


	3. Ch 2: Poker Face

"What is it _precisely _that you want me to do?" Poker Face seated herself in the most comfortable chair in the room, dressed only in a fluffy, oversized bathrobe.

"Are you sure you want to continue this with my...partners in the room?" Sakyo took the chair across from hers. A wide table put a great deal of distance between them.

Poker Face turned her good eye towards his 'partners.' The infamous Toguro brothers were easy to spot. The younger brother, and ironically the bigger one, was hard to miss. The scrawny one, on the other, gave her the willies. She never trusted a man that small with beady eyes like him.

"They don't seem to mind." She chuckled and turned to face Sakyo once more.

"_Right_." He had ever right to be cautious around her. She was difficult to predict despite following a client's orders or desires. Yet, she was also known for killing some of those she worked with. Mostly it involved her left eye. This woman was very protective of her secrets, which made it very hard to find her.

"I have a few files I want you to look over before you doing anything. Study them individually if you must, but by the end of the week I want to know how they fare against you."

"By any means necessary?" She asked eagerly.

Sakyo shrugged. "Whatever you want, just leave them alive."

He rose and left the hotel room's dining area. When he returned, there was a pile of manila folders tucked under his arm. The folders were handed to her. Poker Face flipped through them rather quickly. There wasn't anything particularly fascinating about the first three. It was the fourth that called for her attention. The crappy photo of the fire apparition left much to be desired. She could barely make out his face.

"_Hiei_." Her voice was barely a murmur.

"I take it that you are satisfied with this information?" Sakyo wore a cocky smirk.

Poker Face close the folder in her hands and placed it on the table with the rest of them.

"There's going to be a small adjustment to the matter of payment."

"Oh?"

"This isn't some kind of bank job or stealing something from the Spirit World Vaults. This will take more than one week. Two weeks tops, and I want to be paid by the hour."

"Is that so?"

If she had been a milli-second slower, Poker Face would have had her skull impaled. She had ducked down in the nick of time. Her fake smile faltered for just a second before Sakyo had noticed a thing. Poker Face grinned nervously.

"Was that really necessary?" She asked.

"I guess that the usual terms of payment won't be altered from our usual agreement, then?"

Poker Face nodded. Raising her head, she was almost struck by the elder Toguro impressive ability to turn his hand into a spear. His beady eyes both annoyed and unnerved her. They left her feeling like she need a cold shower. Very feel things could crawl under her skin. There wer creatures bigger than him, uglier, and meaner. But the younger Toguro certainly took the cake when it came to the creepy factor. His crooked smile, the twisted chuckle, those beady eyes, and the pasty complexion of his skin nearly gave her goosebumps. She had to forcibly tear her eyes away from the odd little man.

"You do like to do things your way, and only your way, don't you, Mr. Sakyo?"

"For a moment, I thought I saw a faint glimmer of fear in your eyes...eye." He had to correct himself. He and everybody else had only seen that one eye. There were people who tried to pry underneath the veil of hair that she used to protect the left side of her face, but they weren't around to report on what was wrong with that side or why her left eye was so special.

Poker Face gave him a toothy smirk. Better to keep up appearances than to let them on to you.

"Me? Afraid?"

"You're heart is beating irregularly. It wasn't doing that before my brother attacked."

Nervously, she laughed while gritting her teeth. "I'm sure you're mistaken, if you don't mind me saying so."

"Oh?" He rose suddenly and crossed the room. With those long legs of his, it didn't take long for the younger Toguro brother to invade her personal space. His giant hand reached out, leaving her no time to move out of the way, and grabbed her chin. Oddly enough, he was careful not to let a hair fall out of place from her left side.

"Then why do I still hear your heart pounding so loudly? It's practically throbbing in my ears. Do you think you're strong enough to face a demon who own a jagan? If you're quivering with fear in my presence, then how do you suppose to withstand a demon like Hiei?" He released her and returned to his seat on the sofa, far away in the living room.

"Funny thing is," Poker Face chuckled quietly. "I didn't say I would go out and kill him right away. I may be a lot of things: a criminal, deviant, murderer. However, the one thing I am not is stupid. If I face that man who killed _him_, I would surely be dead. The only way for me to become stronger is by eating the hearts of one hundred demons."

"That's something new." Sakyo quipped, half laughing.

Turning to him, calmer and with a somewhat bored and disappointed tone.

"Unfortunately, it can't be easy prey either. Nope. They have to be upper class D or higher. Weaker apparitions just don't..." Poker Face leaned back into her chair, stretched out her leg, and pouted. She purposely let her bathrobe fall open just a little, just enough to expose her smooth milky-white leg. "_Do it _for me."

"How many hearts have you eaten so far?" Sakyo was more curious than usual. It was starting to grate on her nerves.

"Only thirty-four." She sighed sadly. "It's such a bother."

"And if Hiei isn't the one you're looking for?"

Poker Face pulled open the fire apparition's file once more and stared at his picture.

"Then he'll still be my prey. If I were to acquire the heart of another jaganshi, then finding that murderer will be so much easier for me. I'll absorb his powers, and find the real man I'm looking for." Her nails that she always filed to a point tapped on the Hiei's chest in the picture. "If you're not the one I'm looking for, _Hiei_, then be sure that I'll have your heart anyway."

* * *

"It's been awfully quiet, hasn't it?"

Yusuke and Kuwabara were walking down the street, minding their own business.

"A little too quiet if you ask me," Yusuke replied.

Confused, Kuwabara turned to him again. "You don't like it?"

"It's not that I don't, it's just really annoying. Right when things get nice and quiet like this and I get time to relax, then BAM! Koenma's got an assignment for me, usually involving saving the world from destruction and risking my life for this dumb job."

"I haven't felt anything out of the ordinary, so it can't be that bad, right?"

It was pointless to try to distract Yusuke. He was off in his own little world, overthinking things, which was very much unlike him. It had been weeks since he heard anything from Koenma, and usually that meant something big was going to go down. He could feel it in his bones. There was something Kuwabara and his fancy-schmancy pyschic awareness was missing. There _was_ something coming. It didn't seem big, but it felt like it was something bad, something really bad.

Suddenly, Kuwabara wrapped his arm around his neck, almost choking him.

"What the heck, Kuwabara? Let go of me!"

"Do you see _that_, Urameshi?" The boy was pointing and grinning like an overexcited child.

"What?" Yusuke wrestled his way out of Kuwabara's grip. "And by the way, I've got one word for you: deoderant."

"Would you shut it and look across the street!" Kuwabara pulled Yusuke's collar in the direction he had been pointing at.

And there she was in broad daylight, a model or somebody really important was sitting at a little cafe and drinking coffee with one hand and reading a book with the other. Her copper hair gleamed in the bright sunlight, just like a newly minted penny. It was draped over her left shoulder rather elegantly and top of her head she wore a black fedora. Her clothes were rather stylish, if Keiko's ranting while she dragged him shopping with her proved to be of any use. A black causual blazer with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows, a plain white shirt, skin-tight red pants, and killer heels. He only said 'killer heels' because those shoes were sharp enough to take a man's eye out, along with his lung, liver, or kidneys. She didn't have much make-up, from where he could tell, but she was a natural beauty to begin with anyway.

"That's almost worth getting my face stuck so close to your pits." There was something about the woman across the street. Something was different about her.

"First, I bathe reguarly. Second, I'm gonna go talk to her!" He was giddy as a school boy.

Yusuke grabbed his arm before he could make it to the crosswalk and pulled him to the side.

"First," Yusuke used a severely mocking tone, "She's probably way older than you. Second, she's _defintely _out of your league. Third, I thought you had a thing for chicks with blue hair?"

"She might be into younger guys."

"Well, you might want to hurry up because those guys seem interested too." Yusuke nudged him in the direction of a group of boys not much older than themselves approaching the lady at the cafe.

Kuwabara and Yusuke couldn't hear what they were saying. They were too far away and the crowded streets made it impossible to make out what was going on. They only had body language to go by. The woman slammed shut her book and her face was not as peaceful as it had been a few minutes ago. She looked very perturbed. The three guys couldn't take a hint. She clearly wasn't interested, but these guys chose to be blind to that aspect. They swarmed around her like ants on a dead carcass. The woman finally decided to get up and leave, only to have them follow her.

"Since your spirit of chivalry probably demands that we help her, we might as well-"

Kuwabara was already running across the street.

"Idiot." Yusuke mumbled before he headed down the same way.

Kuwabara was in the lead since he had a stronger psychic awareness. He would be able to sense if she was in danger. He managed to follow the ruffians to an alley but he and Yusuke arrived too late. However, the victor wasn't whom you think it would be.

She was busy dusting herself off and fetching her hat from the concrete ground. Fixing her hair, she finally noticed the young boys who thought they could rescue her.

"Can I help you gentlemen?" Her voice was light and breathy.

Kuwabara was dumbfounded, struck by her beauty. Her right eye was perfectly outline into black. Her lips looked so perky with in a dull rose gloss. She didn't wear blush, mascara, or eye shadow. She was one of the those few women were didn't need makeup.

Yusuke had an easier time ignoring her beauty. He was more focused on three unconscious and bloody bodies laying on the ground and one at her feet. The woman didn't look like she could stand for very long in a fight and those high heels of hers would be more of a disadvantage than an advantage. She was a bit thin, too. There was no way a skinny girl like her could take down three guys almost twice her size. Things did not add up right in his head.

"Are you alright?" Asked Yusuke.

"Oh, yes. Thank you," she causually stepped over the arm of one of her would-be attackers. He was groaning so loudly. The point in her heel might have _accidentaly_ met his palm.

"Do you need a doctor?" Kuwabara was way too excited. Yusuke wanted to pull to the side and tell him that this woman was up to no good, however the guy looked to excited and there wasn't any demonic energy coming from her. There was zero bad vibes. She appeared completely normal.

Although, the thing with her hair all to one side was a bit strange.

"I'm fine, but thank you for asking." Her smile and manners were so cordial, it made it less unlikely that she could take down guys like those all by herself. Nobody could be that polite and be able to ruthlessly take them down in a matter of a few minutes.

"What was...that about?" Yusuke nodded towards the unconscious thugs.

"Them? They were the typical kind of man who thinks 'no' means 'yes' and 'Get lost' means" she suddenly appeared in front of Kuwabara with her hands clasped together. She was leaning against his chest. "'Take me. I'm yours.'"

Kuwabara's face turned into a tomato. He was blushing so hard it was almost laughable. She backed off like nothing happpened.

"Were you coming to defend my honor?"

"Well..." Yusuke tried to start.

"I couldn't let a woman fend for herself!" Kuwabara grabbed her hands and held them tightly, though she didn't seem to find so much. Either that or she was thinking about punching him.

"Silly boy," she patted his cheek and gave it a little pinch. "I'm a lot tougher than I look. I can tie my own shoe laces and everything. But tell you what, I like you, the both of you, and in graditutude for your attempted heroism, how about you meet me at this club this coming Saturday night? Say around nine o'clock." She pulled out a business card from her back pocket.

"I don't know.."

Kuwabara interuppted him again and snatched up the card.

"We'd love to go!"

"Great!" She brushed past Kuwabara, giving him a wink. "I'll you there, boys."

She walked down the street, rocking her hips left to right as if she knew Kuwabara would be staring at her butt.

"Wow," Kuwabara sighed.

"You don't even know her name." Yusuke groaned, unbelieving of Kuwabara's stupidity.


	4. Ch 3: Cannibal

In the shade of the branches, high above the ground, Hiei contemplated and cursed his current predicament. Having his _activities _confined to such a small area was claustrophobic. He could strangle something. Or someone. Rather blaming his own hubris, the target of his rage was Yusuke Urameshi and the toddler prince who sent him. Irate and vengeful as he was, there he could do about it at the moment. His current predicament landed him in a position that made revenge nearly impossible. It could be done, but not without swift repercussions, and he planned to avoid any kind of execution for as long impossible. His days consisted of taking out his rage on unsuspecting weaker demons and cursing the day Urameshi was born. There was no prey today, leaving Hiei to do nothing but sit in the upper canopy of the pine tree. His cover wouldn't be blown so easily because he was so high up and there was hardly a breeze.

The sun was hitting him just right and even he couldn't resist taking a brief shut eye. It wasn't like he had to worry about being ambushed. Smaller demons knew better. Even if they had the guts to do such a stupid thing, they would ultimately fail. As if Hiei would let his life end that way.

Hiei had closed his eyes for no more than ten minutes when he was jolted awake by a spike of demonic energy in the air. His eyes snapped open and sat straight up. The thorny pine branch shook at the sudden motion. He faced the general direction where the energy was shooting out from. Standing up with the ease of a shadowy cat, he began to head that direction, boredom forgotten. Hopping from branch to branch, he was led by the energy signature to a large clearing, way out of reach of the humans' camping sites and hiking trails. This energy was so raw and warm. It was something that he had not felt before.

He hid behind the thickest branches of the tallest overlooking the clearing. His sharp eyes spotted between branches two figures. One was much taller than the other belonged to an ugly ogre with horns up and down his arms and spine. The ogre's giant form towered over the smaller figure of a woman. She was just standing there, unafraid of the ogre or the club strapped to his back. Hiei stood there, confused. Not so much for why the woman was just standing there like a lump on a log, but confused on whose energy signature he had been following. The ogre was of a common stalk. Nothing particularly special about him. His kind were known to haunt caves and forests and occasionally made their presence known since the feudal era. While humans attributed missing persons to starvation and other natural causes, it was likely that those who ventured too far into the woods were eaten by the likes of the ogre down below. Despite the ogre's size, he was still a common youkai. His energy signature wasn't the great. The woman, the woman on the other hand looked to be just an ordinary woman. Foolish but an ordinary human female nevertheless.

Unfortunately, his curiosity wasn't enough to keep him glued to the spot or step in and help her. Hiei turned and was about to flee the scene when he heard the characteristic wail of an ogre in its final throes of death. Hiei heard it before with his own ears when he sliced those monstrosities by himself. Perhaps somebody else decided to rescue the stupid woman from immediate death. No, that couldn't be it. There was nothing else in the air. There was no sign of anyone else in the area, demon or human. Hiei's brows furrowed sharply into a deep V-shape. There was only one possibility. He turned again.

The woman was standing on the ogre's stomach, rolling up her sleeves. There was a hole in the ogre's skull the size of a cannon ball. She knelt down; the torso of her victim was wide enough to sit on without having to straddle the body. What he saw next slightly turned his stomach. She rolled up her sleeves so she could dig her arm into the ogre's chest and bury it in the chest cavity, just under the rib cage. Hiei watched with morbid curiosity as she ripped the heart, dripping in red gore and sticky ventricles. She held it up for inspection. Her fingers poked and prodded the heart which was twice as big as her hand. When it seemed to have passed inspection, the woman took a bite.

The knots in his stomach were only slightly tightened. It wasn't an unusual thing for demons to eat other demons. In his world, it was kill or be killed. If you left yourself open to be made into fodder for another demon, it was your own fault. While in theory it was perfectly normal and logical, as dark, twisted, and disgusting as it may have been, in practice was still pretty gruesome to watch. It could be considered a form of cannibalism, but what would you call it if the eater was a human? This was unheard of.

Briefly, Hiei looked away. Not because he was disgusted, that would be unheard of for a demon of his caliber. He looked away because he didn't like the way she was munching on the ogre's heart with the mannerisms of a starving wolf. When looked back, she was slurping up the contents. She had to hold her head back so the remainder of her meal could successfully go down all the way. Her lips and chin were as red as her arms. A red tongue lapped up the blood on her lips. She reached inside her jacket, pulled out a white handkerchief, and started to wipe her mouth and hands clean of the blood. Hiei didn't realize it until her eyes, or rather eye, she hid half of her face with her hair, turned their gaze towards the branches under which he kept himself concealed with the branches that he had his hand on the end pummel of his sword nor how hard his other hand was gripping the hilt at all. He didn't know when he laid his hand on his sword. He hadn't taken his eyes off the scene for so long, it a little bit of a shock that his subconscious deemed it a matter of safety to get his hands ready to use his sword. Why would he need it?

"I know you're there, _Hiei._ I only want to introduce myself. Don't make me come after you." Her smile made Hiei grind his teeth. Her blood-stained lips had no reason to smile so, not when it made her look like a homicidal maniac.

Hiei said nothing. He forced his hands away from his sword. Then, her gaze was firmly placed on the exact spot where he hid.

"I see you," she childishly smirked.

She probably did see him. Albeit, it startled him. It startled him that he wanted to know her name so badly. A human just bested an ogre on her own yet there was no reason why she appeared as nothing special. Unusual, frightening to some, and possibly a lunatic, but she was still a human. She posed no threat to him. On the other hand, he wanted to know how she did what she did and why she consumed her victim's heart to begin with. He jumped down.

The woman, as he found as he approached cautiously, was much taller than he guessed. He glanced at the dead body just past the woman who was striding over to meet him. The ogre would probably be standing at no more than eight feet tall. The deadly, sharp spines on his body gave the illusion that he was bigger than he was. The woman who killed the ogre wasn't that short either. In fact, she wasn't short at all. Even without the ridiculous high heeled shoes she was wearing, she would most likely stand at five-eight to six feet tall.

"_Hiei_, I've heard you like to make trouble. I'd like to make your acquaintance."

He still nothing. He only scrutinized her from head to toe. For a heart-eater in the literal sense, she dressed rather nicely. Her clothes were made to fit her like a second skin before drawing attention to certain assets. Her low-cut jacket drew his attention to her chest for a second. Hiei found that she lacked no modesty. She saw him take a quick look there but didn't so as much as blush. She smirked as if she won some kind of prize.

"Well, you're a rude fellow." She sounded disappointed but her smile never faltered.

Hiei wondered what it would take to wipe that stupid look off her face. It was starting to get on his last nerve.

"Hn."

"_Hn_?" The woman repeated.

"Don't mock me, woman." This time on purpose, Hiei put his hand around his sword.

"Who said I was mocking you? This is how I normally am."

"And do you normally eat ogre hearts?"

He watched as her expression changed from subtle to deliberately insane. It seemed that her smile widened more than physically possible.

"I have an _unusual_ diet, to say the least, but it's necessary. Do you think I enjoy hunting down youkai? That I like having to perform pseudo-heart surgery to get what I need? Trust me, I don't enjoy it any more than you would. Unfortunately, it's a necessary evil." Her teeth were dyed pink with blood.

Hiei looked at the corpse. The ogre's face was caved in. Blood was everywhere. The spike he felt earlier in the air must have been coming from some kind of blast of spirit energy. But where did the energy signature go? He looked at the woman, and was disappointed. There wasn't a trace of energy, nothing that he felt moments ago, on her. If he hadn't seen what he just saw, Hiei would call her a normal human.

"I bet I know what you're thinking," she chuckled.

"Hn."

"You're wondering how I killed him and you're also wondering where the sudden spike in energy went to. You sensed something earlier, but now you're wondering where that sudden burst of energy went. You think I'm just human, don't you, love? You think I'm no different from the humans you're forced to associate with thanks to your failed attempt at the crime of the century. I heard what happened after you stole those artifacts from the Spirit World vault. I must say, I am impressed. Although, I could have done a better job. I've managed to pull off more jobs that were much harder than your heist, and do it without being identified. Still, I'm honored to have met you." She bowed to him from waist, hand on her hat. Slowly, rising, she said, "They simply call me _Poker Face_."

"_Poker Face_?" Hiei snorted indignantly. "What a bizarre name. Did you come up with it all on your own?"

As if taking pride in her strange name, she answered, "Not really. I'm sure I was born with a more proper name, but I can't for the life of me recall it."

Hiei didn't by her 'pity me' attitude. She even had her wrist, still soaked in ogre blood, limply rest on her forehead like she was some kind of victim. The only thing she turned out to be was an overdramatic killer with a flare and love for thematic performances.

"A likely story." Hiei sneered.

Narrowing her eyes, Poker Face stuffed her hands into her pants' pockets. Her smile was less dramatic but no less deviant.

"Do you know what it means to have a _poker face_, Hiei?"

He silently shook his head.

"In the game of poker, it's a card game humans made up…"

"I'm aware of what poker is."

"In the game of poker, you have at least five players trying to outdo each other with the cards in their hands. As each card has a certain amount of numbers attached to it, the one with the strongest hand wins. However, poker isn't necessarily a game for honest people. Often, actually, it's all the time, you have to lie to the person across from you, beside you, off to the side. You have to fool your friends into thinking that the hand that you have is utter crap. It's a game of deception. In order to conceal the value of the cards in your hand, especially if they're good ones, you have to look emotionless. In my case, I wear a smile as my poker face, to keep everyone else guessing. You see, when you make faces like yours, people already know what kind of person you are. But a smile…a smile can confuse people."

Hiei glared but she remained unmoved by his stance. He was more than ready to cut off her pretty little head clean off her shoulders. She was speaking nothing but nonsense, stringing him along. As if she was distracting him.

"Are you a gambling man, Hiei?" She asked suddenly.

"What business is that of yours?"

Poker Face shrugged. "I suppose it isn't." She checked her watch, but it was splattered with blood. "As I can't tell what time it is, I'd better hurry and find a place to clean up. Can't turn up at my hotel looking like this, can I? If you are a gambling man, _Hiei_, then why don't you take the chance to see me again?"

She pulled out a card from an interior jacket pocket. Rather than giving it to him, Poker Face laid the calling card on the ground at his feet.

"If you'd like to pick up where we left off, why don't you meet me at this address this Saturday? At nine?"

Hiei had grown tired of her annoying, mocking tone. In the blink of an eye, his sword was unsheathed, but by then she was gone. She ran. She ran as fast as he could. No human could do that. Hiei was stunned for a moment, lost in thought. When he found no trace of her, he picked up the card she left behind. He scanned the large yet feminine scrawling on the white cardstock before crumbling it in his fist.

* * *

_Three down, one to go_, Poker Face thought to herself cheerfully as she adjusted the dark brown wig in the store's bathroom.

The color of the wig almost matched her brown eye. She frowned uncharacteristically at the frumpy cable knit sweater than hid all of her good assets, the knee-length skirt (what she considered dismally long), awful cream colored stockings, and granny Mary-Janes. What was worse was the white medical eyepatch she wore over her left eye. Even more than that was that tiny dark veins etched their way down her cheek and up along the temple of her forehead. She tried not to focus on the horrid scars she took every chance to hide from the world. What hid under the eyepatch was more of a nightmare, but a paid mission was under way. Whatever she would suffer now would receive a great recompense at the end of the job.

The ends of the wig tickled her neck, making her scratch it every so often. She was frankly disgusted with her new look. She was incredibly dowdy and innocent-looking. It almost made her puke in the toilet nearby. Her regular clothes were stuffed inside a large canvas bag. The bag was slung on her left shoulder before she made her exit.

Poker Face never understood why people liked books so much. More to the point, why did book stores still exist? Weren't there online stores where you could find all of the books you could ever want? Or even libraries, weren't they free? The smell of printed paper was all around. Even though she felt like a fish out of water, breaking out of character was a no-no. There was need for her to stretch to look over the bookshelves as she went to look for her prey; she was already so tall. Without even trying, she spotted a head of long red hair poking out from the sea of black. Kurama was still wearing his charming little school uniform.

For this reason, she hated Kurama for it. Why should he get to be allowed to live a normal life? He was a demon, why should he get the privilege of leading an easy life. He didn't have to worry about working for scum like the Black Black Club or fight his way through demons to avenge someone he-a friend or constantly change hotels to avoid detection. No, he got to have a lovely, lazy life with his human mother, go to school, and get to live in relative peace. Poker Face really hated him for that, and that reason alone. It was unfortunate for her that she couldn't go and slice him up with her cards, but instead had to swallow her pride. She came to the book aisle next to his, pretending to look over the book titles. He hadn't noticed her yet. When he moved further up the aisle, Poker Face followed at a decent distance. Mustn't let him catch onto her, could she?

When they were finally at the end of their respective aisles, she placed the toe of her shoe around the stand of a display rack. She made it look like she was trying to turn into the next aisle. To an observer, it hopefully looked like she wasn't watching where she was going. With her foot placed just so, her tall frame was susceptible to being pulled directly into the display rack and those knocking it over. Kurama's aisle was successfully blocked. Poker Face sat on her knees, ignoring the rug burns on both her knees. She hated those most of all. Sakyo, if she could convince, would have to be compensation for all the little things that came with this job of his.

"Are you alright?" It was the soft-hearted school boy who had taken the bait.

She forced herself to blush as she tried to pull the display rack upright.

"I-I'm sorry. I'm just so clumsy." She waited for Kurama to come to her aid.

Just as she predicted, he knelt down and helped her rearrange the display. They picked up the books together. The heat in her blushing cheeks was getting on her nerves. Wearing the chunky sweater didn't help matters either. She was going to take a long cold bath once she got to her hotel.

Her moves were decisive. She made sure to pick up the books closest to him. Eventually, her carefully planned out movements led her to the pivotal moment in her trap. Their fingers barely touched as they both reached for the same book. Poker Face played the innocent angel, the blushing maiden that she thought Kurama would be most vulnerable towards. When she moved her head slightly upwards, she allowed him to see the left side of her face, eyepatch and scars in all. It took just a few moments before he gave her a look of pity. Vulnerable women didn't so much attract him, but given his attention to his once ailing human mother and his compassion for humans had certainly grown in the last fifteen years, Poker Face's strategies were working out splendidly.

"Oh, sorry," she pretended to hide her face. "I…was in a car accident while back. I finally got the courage to show my ugly face in public."

She and Kurama worked to put the cheap paper backs back where they belonged. They weren't in the exact place but it was close enough.

"I wouldn't say that. I think some imperfections make people far more attractive than those who have to work to achieve some kind of superficial goal of beauty."

Poker Face ignored the throbbing vein in her forehead. He was so sweet he was giving her a cavity.

"Can I know your name?" She asked nicely, biting the inside of her cheek so she couldn't say anything that would blow her cover.

"Minamino Shuichi, and what's yours?"

_Crap_! She forgot to give her undercover operative a name. Her gaze was fixed on her shoes with her head bowed. While he thought she was just being shy, she could come up with a good name on such short notice.

"I'm Mitsukine Maiko. It's very nice to meet you!" She may have been over enthusiastic and her bow may have been a little too deep from the waist.

Kurama didn't seem to notice. He smiled at her and returned the gesture. He was looking a little too hard on her eyepatch.

"I-I know this is weird to ask someone you just met, but, um, if you don't mind helping me with something, I would really appreciate it."

"Oh?" He seemed surprised.

Good. She wanted him to be distracted. He was looking too hard at her face.

"My friends invited me to go to this club with them this Saturday, to cheer me up, but I just don't know if I can do it. Maybe if they see me with a good looking guy, they wouldn't be so concerned about me." She even had her lower lip tremble for emphasis.

Kurama seemed to take the longest moment to think about it.

"I have a test to study for, but if it's later in the evening, I can probably make it."

_Perfect_. Poker Face struggled to keep herself from smirking. She dug into the canvas bag and pulled out another calling card. Thrusting it into his hand, she smiled broadly, forcibly.

"Meet me at the address on the card at nine. Again, thank you so much. Sorry, but I've got to go now."

With that, Poker Face spun on her heels and dashed off and out of the store. A while later, she got into her hotel room. Locking the door behind her, her disguise was tossed in every direction of the room. The wig was thrown into the trash along with the cap. Her copper hair was finally set free and she relished running her fingers through her locks with abandon. Clothes were thrown in some unknown place on the floor and her shoes were kicked away from her like they were disgusting rubbish.

"Good evening, kiddo."

Poker Face was standing in the middle of the room in just the skirt and bra. Her head whipped towards the voice. A cold chill ran down her spine.

"Izin?"

He was sitting in the windowsill. Not a scratch was on him. It was like he never died. He appeared as healthy and alive as before she found him bleeding out in their secret home.

"Keeping yourself busy, are you?" He motioned his head to the bag at her feet.

"You're not real."

"I've heard that you're doing a lot of business without me. Become quite an accomplished thief, haven't you? I couldn't be prouder."

"You're not real."

The fake Izin scooted of the sill and made his way towards her. His gait was just as she remembered. He had a slow, staggering walk, like he was always drunk. Oftentimes, he was. He was sleek, lanky, and didn't boast about much power. His clothes would often hang off of him like a scarecrow. His black hair ran down all the way to his lower back. Finally, one of his long arms reached out to touch her. If she was in anyway repulsed, Poker Face made no move to show it. Her eyes were glued to the window right past his ear. She focused on the city skyline and knew nothing else except how to breathe in this moment.

"You've gotten more beautiful too." His clawed hand cupped her cheek. "You look more like a woman now."

"You're not real."

"Why do you keep saying that when I'm right in front of you, _koi_."

"Because I held you in my arms when you died!"

That seemed to break the illusion. Poker Face woke up on the floor half-dressed with the eyepatch clutched in her hand. A black shoe was the first thing she saw. It looked was a very familiar shoe, the kind a businessman wore. This time she couldn't force herself to smile.

Her other hand shot up to cover the left side of her face and eye.

"Go away, Sakyo." Poker Face crawled on her hand and knees towards the dresser where she stashed her real clothes.

"I'm merely here to check up on your progress." He took advantage of the situation and sat himself on her bed. Permission was not needed.

She uneasily got to her feet, opened the drawer, and shuffled inside for some pjamas. There was no partying tonight. Not in this state. What she wanted was some well deserved rest. With any luck, she wouldn't have any more nightmares tonight.

"Are the Toguro brothers nearby?" The last thing she wanted was for them to see her like this. The oldest Toguro brother already made her flinch and she was barely able to keep her cool the last time they were in the same room together. She wasn't out to impress them, but she didn't want them to know her dirty little secret either.

"No. They're elsewhere. They have plans of their own for the evening." He paused and waited for her to start undressing. He noticed how she kept her left eye closed as she changed. "Did you have fun today?"

"What do you mean?"

"I found you passed out on the floor in a state of undress. Although, if you were to bring company over, I didn't think you would wear that kind of skirt."

Poker Face ignored him and kept her mind on changing clothes. A pair of silk shorts and a skin-tight cami was all she needed for the night. She fussed over her hair until she had her face covered. Leaning against the drawer, she looked Sakyo dead in the eye.

"I don't have _company_ over when I'm working." She snapped.

Sakyo, surprised at her answer and her tone, gave her a look. "Oh?"

"You can go now."

He rose from the bed. Instead of heading straight for the door, he lingering a bit. He stepped dangerously close to her personal bubble.

"You're not smiling today. Did something happen?"

Poker Face stomped her way to the door. She tore it wide open and gestured him silently to go through it. Sakyo eventually too the hint. But he took his sweet time doing as she said. Once he was in the door way, he stopped, lingered there, and gave her a look.

"What did you do?"

"I looked at my reflection in the window." She pushed him out, nearly making him stumble, and slammed the door home. She didn't know how he got in without picking the locks, that would be too obvious and drew too much attention, but tomorrow she was checking out early and finding a new hotel.


	5. Ch 4: Take It Off

George the Ogre held unto a few leaflets of paper for dear life. He had just got back from one of the security teams. The footage they found was going to make the vein in Prince Koenma's forehead finally pop. The ogre was all in knots about it. Visions of torture and spankings were rolling like film strips across his mind. His bottom was stinging at the thought of it as he raced towards Koenma's office. He stood in front of the door, which had been locked and sealed to keep Koenma from going on a rampage inside the Spirit World castle. The recent cases of thefts and other crimes committed by the woman known simply as _Poker_ _Face_, and they had only just recently discovered this nomenclature of hers, her real name was still a mystery, had the prince speedily heading towards the brink of insanity. Minor cases were to be put on hold until further notice. Even King Enma had agreed with the toddler's decision. Poker Face was causing more trouble than anybody from the Demon World in the past decade and she was making a mockery of the Spirit World to boot. If her influence spread, they would have some serious trouble on their hands.

George lifted a shaking, blue fist towards the door. He swallowed hard, gulping down fear and anxiety. He knocked three times.

"What is it!" Koenma ran to the door, unlocked it, and threw it open, slamming it against the adjacent wall.

"K-Koenma, sir, we think we might have something." George pointed with one of his claws towards the papers he held in his other hand.

"Does it involve the Poker Face case?" Koenma was glaring at him with a deadly fire in his eyes. One wrong word, and George would be the soles of his feet burned off.

He handed Koenma the leaflets. George was with trepidation building in his gut. His put his fingers near his mouth and started biting down on his nails. It took Koenma mere seconds to review the pictures in his hands.

"Ogre." The prince said stoically, not what the ogre was expecting.

"Y-yes, sir."

"What am I looking at?"

George hesitated to answer. "T-those, those are pictures of Poker Face, sir. The most recent surveillance photos."

"I can see that, Ogre, but what I want to know is why she's talking to the SPIRIT DETECTIVE!"

_BONK_! Koenma's foot successfully collided with George's nose. Not strong enough to break an ogre's nose, Koenma's shoe left an impressive mark on the ogre's face.

"What's she doing in Mushiyori city? Hm? What's she doing there!" Koenma yelled and pointed with his stubby little fingers at the photos the surveillance crew pulled up. Thanks to facial recognition programs, in part also thanks to advanced human technology, they were able to catch a break and pick out Poker Face's smug head out of a crowd, with the Spirit Detective and his friend no less. Koenma was deep in his tantrum, he hadn't seen the pictures of the criminal with Kurama and Hiei either. George didn't know whether he should be thankful or point it out to his boss.

He quickly lost his chance when Koenma started looking at the photos for a second time. Koenma flipped through the pictures before throwing them one by one to the floor.

"She's mocking me!" Frustrated, Koenma kicked the photos which were blown into a flurry of a wind storm the toddler-prince was throwing to take out his anger.

"Isn't this a good thing? Yusuke could already be on the case! She's within the vicinity...He can still catch her!" George sounded to hopeful for his own good.

Koenma shot him a nasty look. His beady dark eyes flashed with the fires of all seven rings of hell burning behind them. A circle of fire enveloped the tiny prince, sending George running for the hills. Too bad all he could was cower in a corner while Koenma went on a rampage.

"She's a sneaky one, she is! Who knows how long she'll be in Mushiyori? And what could she possibly be doing there? It's no Tokyo or Kyoto!"

"Yusuke will find out, sir! I mean, just make this his next case! He's probably been wondering why it's been so quiet lately." George suggested from his hidy hole in the corner as he tried to avoid the dangerous ire of Lord Koenma in the throes of his temper tantrum.

"It's been so quiet because I haven't sent him on any new missions!" He picked up one of the photos which prominently displayed Poker Face's face. "Thanks to this woman!"

"Maybe now's the time to get Yusuke involved. I mean he is the Spirit Detective. Isn't this his job?"

Suddenly, Koenma's temper cooled.

"You're right. Go get Botan. I want her in my office ASAP. She has a message to deliver."

* * *

Botan raced to find Yusuke on his way home from school. With a stroke of luck, Kuwabara was there too. They needed all the help you could get.

"I was wondering when you guys would call on me. So, what'cha got for me?"

"It's best if we have the whole gang together. Lord Koenma has a very important mission for you, Yusuke. In fact, he's been putting off all other cases because of this one."

"Must be really important if Binky Breath has been holding out on us." Yusuke scratched his chin. "I suppose I can fit it into my _busy_ schedule."

"Yusuke!" Botan raised her voice almost high enough to shriek. "This is supposed to be your job as Spirit Detective. You need to get a sense of responsibility!"

"Will this take long? Because we've got a date with a pretty lady Saturday night!" Kuwabara practically gloated.

"Pretty lady? Who is he talking about, Yusuke?" Botan wondered.

"Ah, he's just been acting weird since we saw this woman across the street. I think he's got a new crush or somethin'."

"You should have seen her, Botan! She had this gorgeous tan, nice legs, killer body. And her hair looked so soft!"

Yusuke was embarrassed just by listening to the goofball ramble on and on about a woman so far out of his league, it wasn't even funny. That was when he noticed Botan shuffling through a manila folder she just magically pulled out of her kimono sleeve. Her brows furrowed, a look of worry and anxiety crossing her face. Yusuke knew that look. It was the look she always gave him right before they got some seriously bad news. A knot tied inside his stomach. He prepared himself for the worst.

"Kuwabara, what exactly did this woman look like?" She didn't bother looking up from whatever she was looking at inside the folder.

"Tan, long hair, warm brown eyes, glossy lips–"

"What color was her hair?"

"Copper," Kuwabara looked to find Botan's worried expression. That certainly killed his mood. He didn't like that look.

"And did she wear in a particular way?" Botan's eyes were focused on the thing inside the folder she held.

"Come to think of it, wasn't it parted on the side, or something like that?" Yusuke suggested, rubbing his chin.

"Yeah, yeah. Her hair was pulled over the side of her face. Like she didn't want anybody to see it."

"Was it on the left or the right?"

"Left." Both of the boys answered.

Hesitantly, Botan what she was looking at from the folder and handed it over to them. They took a good look at the woman in the photo who had here high heels trailing behind her a puddle of blood and corpses. The face was blurry, but the hair was distinctive.

"Who's this?"

"Well," Botan started. "We don't have her real name. She's known around by the criminal element as _Poker Face_. But don't let her good looks fool you. She's a dangerous sociopath who's been pulling more heists in the last nine months than Koenma can handle. Her rap sheet keeps getting longer and longer."

"Is she the woman we met the other day?" Yusuke knew there was a reason to be suspicious.

"Yes."

Kuwabara berated himself, clutching handfuls of his hair. Yusuke could only fear sorry for the poor loser. He patted him on the back but his rival-friend was too far gone.

"Better luck next time, buddy." Yusuke dragged Kuwabara towards his place to discuss his new mission in the privacy of his home.

* * *

Sweat and illegal alcohol mingled with the toxic smell of cigarettes, as if anybody cared. Poker Face wasn't fazed by the strobe lights which changed color ever few minutes to further disorient the ravers. She blended in perfectly. Tight black pants, open toed high heeled shoes, and her torso was entrenched by a dark mauve halter corset. A silver chain hung from the base of her hips; the ends jingled like bells against her thigh while she swung her hips up and down. Without her fedora, Poker Face didn't truly feel like herself even surrounded by her people, young, drunk hedonists looking for a good time. Unfortunately, her favorite hat didn't quite go with her outfit. After the little _incident_ the other day, she was forced to dawn an eye patch to cover up her "special eye". Better to be safe than to be sorry. But on the plus side, she had more options to do with her hair. She could let it down, for once, but honestly she didn't have any ideas how she was going to have it for tonight. In the end, it was parted to the side with most of her hair falling towards the left. Force of habit.

Looking up and down the bar, there were women in more scanty outfits than she was. Ah, Japan. Home of the famous variations of the same rave wear that Americans would scream about in their conservative tabloids. Comparatively, Poker Face had more covered up. To the rest of them, she looked like a nun.

"What's your poison?" The bar tender leaned against the high lighter yellow neon bar splattered with glow sticks and discarded straws.

He was in his mid-twenties and positively yummy. Poker Face licked her lips as she eyed him from the waist up. The stupid counter was getting in the way. As pay back, she scratched up the laminate surface with her fingers. The bar tender must have thought that she was just trying to think of what to order. She stroked her chin.

"Just get me a shot of tequila for now, _sweetie_." She winked.

The bar tender smirked and turned around to prepare her drink. For a few minutes, Poker Face was rewarded with a nice view of his butt. She glanced at her watch. She had about half an hour before her targets even showed up. She hated to admit it, but tonight it might just be possible for her to break her most precious rule, for a little while, just for tonight and tonight only. When was the last time she even got any? The bar tender returned with her drink. She purposely laid her hand on top of his as he handed her the drink. He hesitated to remove it. Smirking, Poker Face raised the shot glass.

"Bottoms up," the shot glass was drained in one go.

If the bar tender was impressed, he failed at hiding it. He grabbed the rag hanging off his belt and pretended to wipe the counter as if sanitation actually mattered in a place like this. Poker Face loved to watch the muscles under his black shirt ripple as he made great sweeping motions with the rag.

"Do you come here often?" He asked casually.

She shook her head. "My first time."

"How'd you hear about it?"

_From the seedy owner mob boss._ "Word on the street. I've been looking for a real place to cut loose. Work has got me...ugh, I don't even want to talk about work."

"That bad, eh?" The bar tender slapped the dirty rag onto his shoulder. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Oh," she sighed, "I guess you could say that the people I work for are pretty demanding. Won't let me have a moments peace to myself. Then there's one guy who keeps flirting with me. I jokingly do it right back, but now that he's hired a couple of scary-lookin' dudes, I've suddenly lost interest."

"Really?" She nearly had him. The bar tender eyed her. She didn't mind it when his eyes laid on the ample amount of exposed cleavage. The fact that he was focused on her chest and not her eye patch was a blessing.

"He was a bit of a jerk anyway. I wanted a larger cut in this project we're working on, but he had these new goons of his to _persuade _me otherwise."

"You weren't hurt, were you?"

"Do I look hurt?" Poker Face chuckled even though she almost had her face skewered by that creepy Elder Toguro. "No, but it made me back off all the same."

"What do you do for a living anyway? If I'm not getting too personal, that is. It sounds like you're into some pretty shady shit."

"You're one to talk. You didn't even ask for my card."

"You look old enough." The bar tender had leaned closer to her so that she could hear him better above the sound of throbbing music.

"Let's just say I'm into corporate espionage and information gathering, with a smattering of mercenary jobs now and then." Whether he believed her or not was not important. If she could get him away from the bar for a matter of ten to fifteen minutes, she'd still have time to spare. Poker Face wouldn't mind one round of bathroom sex before actually doing some work. She just hoped the bathrooms were more or less decent, at least halfway to decent or just decent enough for a sloppy quickie against the wall. A sparkling example of cleanliness was too much to ask for on this side of town.

"Do you think you can take a break?" She whispered into his ear, the tequila still fresh on her breath.

"Sure." He didn't check with anybody, he made his way around the bar and slid up next to her.

Poker Face felt his arm snake around her waist. They smirked at each other knowingly. Mr. Bar Tender, maybe she should learn his name, leaned his face so close to hers he could hear her heart beating just slightly faster than normal due to the mounting (pun not intended) excitement. His face suddenly ducked towards the crook of her neck where his lips graced the junction between her shoulder and throat. His hand moved the piece of the halter top corset that was getting in his way. A sigh was released from her lips when she felt his tongue dart out from between his hot lips and caress the throbbing artery with the wet muscle. His lips pounced on the opportunity and latched onto the juncture of her neck and shoulders. Poker Face snaked her arms around his back, hooking one arm behind his neck and the other around his waist. Sitting down, he was taller than she was so when he finally dragged her out of the bar stool, it quickly became awkward.

Mr. Bar Tender wrenched his face away, leaving behind a purple mark on her throat.

"You're tall."

That was the understatement of the century.

"Does that bother you?" She opened her lips up ever so slightly, highlighting the soft sheen of her glossed lips. Batting her eyelashes, in a matter of seconds, unless there is something shorter than a second, Mr. Bar Tender completely forgot about the height difference.

"No," he then latched his mouth around hers.

Clinging to each, they couldn't break the kiss even they wanted to. Their tongues were in an all out battle for dominance. Poker Face let him think he was still in control. She played with him for a while, just long enough to get what she wanted from him. She pulled her tongue back when she felt him trying to turn the tables and make him the dominant party. Poker Face obliged. She already knew who was on top.

After their steamy kiss, they had hormones and adrenaline pumping through their systems. She was a little high right about now thanks to the sudden rush of excitement flowing through her. She let Mr. Bar Tender take her wrist and she followed him into a back storage room hidden behind some black curtains. Nobody was back there. It was almost perfect. Too bad it was so dark he couldn't see her. Even with her "special eye" covered up, Poker Face could see everything as clear as day. What annoyed her was pretending to be just as blind as he was. She had to act surprised when he rammed her against the wall. He was pawing at her upper thighs, roaming upwards to squeeze and fondle her goods. Her pants were so tight against her skin that she could feel Mr. Bar Tender's hand right on top of her. Her hands were fisted around the back of his shirt, trying to tear it off him. Anything to have skin to skin contact.

Poker Face felt his hand ghost its way up her chest, reluctantly skimming past her breasts. She groaned. She felt like she was being ignored, that is until Mr. Bar Tender found the silver zipper on the front of the conscriting corset. He pulled it down with an agonizing slowness that she might have yelled at him to pull the thing off already. The zipper was undone only half way, revealing her perky chest with its strapless black bra and her bare stomach. Mr. Bar Tender's lips graze the top of her chest. Poker Face let out a short sigh just as his lips grazed downwards and...

"Ryuji? Where are you, you lazy bum? I'm not covering for your shift again! I swear if you're back here with another tramp, I'm going to kill you!" A young woman's shrill voice yelled from behind the thick curtains.

Both of the groaned. Poker Face pouted and pulled the zipped on her corset back up. She pecked Mr. Bar Tender on the cheek and offered him a lingering touch on his chest.

"Maybe next time, _sweetie._" She passed him by like a breeze of cool air and easily sneaked back to the club without anyone really noticing. Well, somebody noticed.

A short blonde with honey-colored eyes in a dark blazer and short skirt glared at her from behind the bar. Poker Face winked her way before heading off into one of the more shadier parts of the club to avoid detection and distractions. She checked her watch again. Fifteen minutes left. She huffed as she clambered into an empty booth, only to have a strange sight nearly escape her powerful gaze. Four young men were trying and failing to be casual. Teenagers, they barely stood out of the crowd. However, there so many people tonight and more than half of them were underage, the boys weren't too conspicuous. She slid comfortably into the leather couch, smirking.

"Hi boys, miss me?" Poker Face blew them a single kiss, making the tallest one blush beet red. "I know somebody who missed me."

"Cut the crap! What do you want?" Yusuke hit his fist against the wall in the tight-fitting alcove.

Cocking her head to the side, "Whatever do you mean?"

"You don't need to play innocent. You've played each of us. You want something." Kurama's eyes narrowed, sizing her up. There was no place for her to put any weapons, none that he could see at least. She probably wearing that outfit as a distraction, which would only work on either Yusuke or Kuwabara, or both. And it seemed to be working, on Kuwabara at least.

Poker Face chuckled. Gracefully crossing her legs, they appeared inches longer than they actually were as she leaned a little further back.

"Oh, it's not _I_ want. My employer just told me to investigate you four. What he does with that information is up to him. After this, my job is done."

"You're...you're not gonna fight us?" Yusuke asked. He never came across somebody that wanted an encounter with him and chose not to fight. It made him anxious. Just what was she doing, then, if she had no intention of fighting them. Not that they could. There were too many witnesses that could get hurt in the scuffle.

"Nope. I was specifically, told not to engage." Poker Face, bored.

"And who's your employer?" Yusuke's temper was running short. She kept giving them short answers, circling around the truth. It was getting under his skin.

"Sorry, kiddo. I have confidentiality agreement. It wouldn't do to have my employers, any one of them, to have their names plastered everywhere. It wouldn't do at all. I'd lose all of my customers that way." She pressed a finger to her lips. The shade of her red nails was almost the same shade as her matte lipstick.

"What do you want now?" Yusuke pressed.

"Absolutely nothing. My job is done."

"You're kidding," he bit back an insult. She didn't look like she was the kind of woman who took threats and insults too kindly. From what he had been told, Poker Face may have looked easy on the eyes but there was a different kind of killer look she sported. She could use common items as weapons. She could turn a piece of scrap metal into whatever she pleased, depending on her mood. Yusuke noticed the gunmetal gray studs in her ears. Even those, she could use her weird power to turn those into weapons if she wanted to.

"From you," Poker Face mused. "I'm not interested." She turned towards Hiei. Uncrossing her legs, she leaned on the couch, pressing her arms towards her torso and squished her breasts together. Whether or not the gesture affected him, the fire apparition acted in his usual manner. Didn't even blink. "_You_. You, however, I care about."

Hiei didn't even flinch as Poker Face stared him down. Her small tongue ran over her lips. A small glimmer of a white fang appeared and disappeared from behind her painted lips.

"What's Hiei got anything with you?"

She turned a glaring eye at Yusuke. The deadly smirk she had been wearing dropped a little.

"That's none of your concern." Poker Face rose from the leather couch. The DJ played her song right on cue, just as she planned. "Oooh, that's my song." She sauntered towards the dance floor.

"I think it's time that I mention, I've got myself an obsession, for the smell, for the touch, Keep the scruff lookin' rough..." She crooned, never minding that the boys were trying to follow her.

What they failed to realize like so many others, she had a very special talent for blending in. Not by the way she dressed, but how she tucked away her spiritual energy. One of her special talents was to blend in a crowd, any crowd, human or demon, and disappear like a cameleon. While they pushed and shoved their way through the sweaty mass of revelers, trying to catch a sneak peak of her, she was so well hidden, she had them looking in the wrong direction. Except for one. The one she wanted to spot her. Hiei practically blended into the shadows. His sharp, beady crimson eyes honed in on her. Just for him, she moved her body in ways to attract any man's attention. The chain belt around her hips garnered his attention.

Hook. Line. Sinker.

Poker Face moved her way closer to him, working up a sweat. His eyes shot upwards. He realized that they were lingering in the wrong place. She smirked down at him. His hand disappeared into his cloak, probably grabbing for his katana. His sword, not his, well never mind. You know. Poker Face bent low to meet him. Her lips were wrapped around his faster than a blink of an eye. The poor devil never saw it coming. The pupils in his eyes went wide as saucers. She ran her tongue over his lower lip before making a hasty getaway. Poker Face glanced at him through the crowd. It took Hiei several moments to recollect himself. Oh, he was one she looked forward to working over.

A yellow cab was waiting for her outside. Poker face slid in and wiped her thumb around her lips to clean up the smeared make-up.

"Where to?" The cab driver asked, looking at her from his rear view mirror.

"Sakurako Hotel on Mushishi Avenue, sir. And make it snappy." Poker Face barely reclined in the back seat and the driver had just started towards their destination, when her cell phone rang. Sakyo's ring tone.

I bet you're wondering how Poker Face could fit a cell phone anywhere in her costume? That was the very thing the cab driver wondered because it certainly wasn't his phone going off. She reached in between her breasts. The driver took a lingering, appreciative glance before turning his eyes back to the road. Poker Face managed to retrieve the world's smallest cell phone.

Pressing the blinking green "Answer" button on the touch screen, "How can I help you?"

"How did it go?" She could hear soft piano music in the background.

"Message delivered." She chuckled. "And then some."

"And them some?"

"Oh, nothing. I made contact with you know who. If I didn't know any better, I'd think that you picked me simply because of him."

"Consider it a gift."

"So I was right." The gleaming city lights zoomed past her. Bored, Poker Face turned to face the window as lights, buildings, and people flew past her.

"I have your payment ready. Should I just put it in your bank account or would you like it delivered to your hotel room?"

"Oh, sweetie. You know I don't have a bank account. That would make me traceable." She shot the driver a sharp look when he was listening a little too closely. He wisely reached for the radio and turned up the volume.

"Then how about I personally hand deliver it to you?"

"What's the catch?"

"If you have dinner with me tonight, at your hotel."

"Are you sure? I might have already switched hotels by now." And she did. For safe measure. "Besides, I'd have to change."

"You're staying at the Sakurako on Mushishi Avenue, right."

Her heart skipped a beat. He chuckled. Did he hear it? How did that bast–

"I know you're free this evening. Your work is done, isn't it? Why not have some fun?"

"Sweetie," she cooed like a lover. "I always have fun. I'll be there in...twenty minutes or less."

"See you then."

The call ended and all Poker Face could do was throw her head back and groan. That dirty old man, just how was he able to stay on top of her? With the Toguro Brothers, he probably had other help too. She didn't know if she should be flattered by his attention or start planning his execution. Either way, with his new goons, it wouldn't happen any time soon.

They arrived at her hotel, fifteen minutes earlier than she expected. Poker Face fished her thin wallet out of the tight pants pocket and relinquished her money into the greasy palm of the driver. She quickly hopped out, walked to the entrance, and ignored the wondering eyes. She didn't fit the part walking right into the hotel looking the way she did. The guests in the elevator turned their snotty noses up, thinking she was a prostitute. Looking at her reflection in the chrome elevator, she could see why. Which was why she didn't waste time quickly exiting on her floor, took out her key card from her wallet, and rushed inside.

The cool air of her hotel room was a welcome treat compared to the sticky humidity of the club scene. The room still smelled of sweet air freshener and cleaning products. The housemaids were here earlier. Her things were left relatively untouched. Kicking out of her shoes, her clothes followed suit. The corset top was incredibly gaudy and she hoped she wouldn't have to wear it out in public again. The drawers were flung open. Greedily her palms ran over her fine suits and blouses. The quality was divine. She redressed quickly, not wanting to keep Sakyo waiting. She had to redo her hair lest he not be able to recognize her. In a black suit, oxford shoes, and classic fedora, Poker Face strutted her way back to the elevator. Nobody stared this time, except at her ample chest. She worked her way to the dining hall, already packed with guests and businessmen lounging around and wasting company money. Sakyo wasn't easy to lose in the crowd. His signature scar and long black hair made him stand out against his more conventional peers. Poker Face ran past the concierge and took the seat at his tiny, tiny table. They were sitting close together, she wondered if he picked this smallest table just to be close to her.

"I trust everything went well." His gaze was fixed on her. It irritated her to no end. He was beginning to look less and less attractive.

"Peachy. But I really do appreciate the little bone you threw me. I did manage to get his attention."

"Really? How?" Sakyo leaned over the table. They practically touched.

"Using my feminine charm, of course." Poker Face smirked back.

"Hiei? Him?" Sakyo sounded incredulous. "He doesn't seem to be that kind of man."

"He's not, but he's still a man. And men, the heterosexual ones at least, can't always resist temptation when its right in front of them. I gave him a taste. It's only a matter of time before he starts to track down my scent."

"Clever," Sakyo raised his champagne glass. The bubbles rose and vanished. Poker Face noticed the second glass full of the same drink. She gingerly picked up by the neck and sniffed it. No drugs.

"Your payment," he nudged something under the table with his foot.

"Is that all you wanted to talk about? Money?" She raised her glass to the same level as his.

"Not quite. Let's make a toast. To health, wealth, and whatever else men desire out of life." He gave her a suspicious wink.

They clinked glasses.


	6. Ch 5: Maneater

"K-Koenma, sir?" George the ogre held out a thick stack of papers towards Koenma, still peeved over Yusuke's last mission.

She was working for the Black Black Club, that's all what Kurama's special bug could tell them. He planted it when nobody was looking. Not even Poker Face noticed it. Even if she did, she would have mistaken it for a speck of dust or something. Just when the situation couldn't get any worse.

"What now?" Koenma hissed, the vein in his forehead throbbing, threatening to burst.

"W-we have a situation down on earth, sir. You really, _really_ need to take a look at it."

George was praying to every god in the celestial realms that this could get Lord Koenma's mind off of Poker Face for a while. For months now, he had been in such a foul mood that the other Spirit World minions didn't dare to approach him. Only himself and Botan had the guts to face him when he was in such a state.

"Does it have anything to do with Poker Face?"

"N-no, sir!" George prepared himself for the worst.

"Thank goodness," Koenma snatched the file from him. "I'm getting tired of her face, mocking me. A little change might be good."

George sighed with relief as Koenma read the reports.

"Young girls have been going missing from several parts of the country. The latest string of disappearances have been occurring, quite naturally, closer to Yusuke's hometown. How convenient?" The prince mused. "Well, what are you waiting for? We have a new assignment, don't we? I need to deliver the message!"

George was all too glad to rush out of Koenma's office to get the video equipment to record Koenma's new assignment for Yusuke. Though, truth be told, it was nice to get out of the office. The prince's negative energy was becoming so stifling that he could barely breath without setting off his boss. Koenma could be truly terrifying when he needed to be. He was in such a rush that he had almost zipped past Botan, who was running towards Koenma's office.

"Is Lord Koenma in a better mood?"

"I wouldn't say a better mood, but for the rest of our sake's let's hope the name Poker Face doesn't come up again some time soon."

"Well, about that," Botan revealed a file hidden by her kimono sleeves.

"Oh no." George started, feeling his heart beginning to pound inside his chest.

"I'm afraid it's about to get worse."

"Please, don't tell me what that is." He gulped.

"It's not as bad as you think!" Botan tried to reassure him but he had already turned a lighter shade of blue. "She hasn't caused any trouble lately. It's been pretty quiet, actually."

"Then what's the hurry?"

"We've been narrowing down a few suspects, checking birth records, and other things. I think we've managed to narrow it down to a few people. However, a _few _actually means around three hundred women who might fit the profile, but it is a start!"

"I don't understand how you can be so optimistic! Poker Face, whatever her real name is, can't simply be human! Which species were you looking under?"

"Human."

George gave Botan a questionable look.

"What if she's a demon? If there are a possible 300 matches, imagine how many of them there would be if you went looking for a demon?"

It was Botan's turn to gulp.

"I hadn't thought of that."

"Koenma's blood pressure possibly couldn't take much more stress. But, you're right. At least it's a start. I'd still hold off on telling him that information. Poker Face is really starting to get to him."

Botan nodded in agreement. "I doubt that there's anything that horrid woman wouldn't do for money."

* * *

"No?" The grubby-faced mobster gawked at her.

"I don't feel the need to repeat myself but since you lack the brain power to comprehend, I'll say it again. No."

"I'm offering you a boatload of cash just for babysitting some girls! How can you say no to that?"

Poker Face took a long drag from her cigarette burning at the end of her long and fancy holder.

"Simple, I just did." She blew the smoke in his face. He had gotten too close for comfort and if wasn't careful, he'd get a lot worse than her smoke up his nostrils.

Practically hacking up a lung, Kurosawa retreated. He squatted back down in his chair and coughed into a red silk handkerchief.

"You're not asking me to babysit, your asking me to serve as a guard over human cargo. I'm afraid I have to object to that."

"You're a murderer and a thief! You don't have the right to refuse!"

"Correction!" She nearly snapped her cigarette holder in two. "I do a lot of things. I kill. I maim. I steal and it's not always because somebody else paid me. I work for you, and the Black Black Club, and anybody else who wants to use my services. My loyalty lies in the green cash. Even so, I'm an independent contractor who can refuse work from whomever, whenever, wherever I please. So, yes, actually I do have the right to refuse."

"You're too good for this job? Is that it? You're willing to killing humans and demons alike, but you're afraid of getting your hands dirty with a little human trafficking?" Kurosawa gritted through his teeth.

Poker Face dropped the cigarette holder and raced across the room. In a split second, she had her high heel stabbing the pathetic sack of human waste in the groin, the stiletto punishing the family jewels. Kurosawa's goons already had their guns aimed at her, not that it would do any good. They had seen her work. They knew that their bullets would be no match for that thing hiding under her hair. Some of them were even shaking, their guns rattling in their hands.

She looked at Kurosawa who was bleeding tears from his eyes and snot from his nose.

"You're right. I am too good for that line of work." She pressed her foot harder against his package, which wasn't really much by the feel of it, "But, I'll let you in on a little something about me. Yeah. I kill, maim, and torture people. I cheat them as they cheated me. I hunt down targets people want me to kill. Hell, I'm even willing to do a little drug and illegal weapons trafficking or protect a gambling den. However, there are just a couple of things that I won't do out of my own principles. Can you guess what they are?"

Kurosawa could only gurgle on his own saliva. Poker Face leaned in towards his putrid, snot-covered face.

"I don't give perverts little girls. I don't willingly help women and children be sold into slavery. And I don't participate in any way in the act of rape. What you're asking of me violates one or more of my three principles and that doesn't sit well with me. No matter how much you money you offer me, I'm not going to help you transport a bunch of helpless girls who you plan on selling!" She kicked him between the legs for good measure.

Kurosawa tumbled out of his chair just as Poker Face whipped around, disgusted by the sight of that pervert. His goons tried firing at her, but it was no good. She was long gone by the time their shell casings hit the ground. The only thing they managed to put holes into was the wall.

Poker Face managed to get back to her hotel without any incident. Her stomach churned at the very idea of working with a man like ever again, after what he asked of her! He was going to be black-listed in her book, that was for sure. What was Sakyo thinking? Giving that guy her number? She swore that the next time she saw him, she was going to give him a piece of her mind.

There was nothing or anyone suspicious laying in wait after she turned the key. Her things were in the right places just where she laid them. Kicking off her heels, putting her hat aside and fixing the eye patch on for safety, Poker Face hopped onto the bed and turned the T.V on. And just her luck, the first station on was a news station. The anchors were droning on and on about some daring rescue by a fireman and the loss of a journalist in the Middle East. She was drifting off to sleep when the next segment caught her attention. Only because it related to a job she just refused.

"In the last several weeks, a total of forty-five teenage girls and young women have been disappearing, from Sapporo to Kyoto and Okinawa. Police reports have only made some connections and believe that this is the work of a human trafficking network. Women between the ages of fifteen and twenty-five are advised to-"

Poker Face couldn't take much more. She turned the T.V off again before she could hear any more of it. For some reason, she could smell copper. She could taste it on her tongue.

_Mama_

She shook her head. The little girl was dead inside her. She wasn't going to be resurrected.

Yet, if she couldn't shake this off soon, she might not be able to get work. Human trafficking, Poker Face was willing to get her hands dirty in all sorts of business, but human trafficking, or even the trafficking of any kind of people and that included demons, made her stomach churn. Sour bile rose in her throat and it almost overwhelmed the taste of copper that rested on the tip of her tongue like an infected wound. Memories of blood and tears swam through her. She fought back. Reaching for one of the pillows behind her, Poker Face shoved her face inside the silk down and let out a banshee's wail. She screamed and screamed until her lungs and vocal chords gave out. She beat her fists against the mattress until her body couldn't give up anything else. When her temper tantrum was through, Poker Face slowly pulled herself up to seated position. She fixed her hair and collected herself.

The worm of a conscience, the annoying little creature, was working its way inside her heart and would soon reach her head. The pesky thing, which she had managed to shove all the way down into her guts, worked its way back up. After knowing what was happening to those girls, was she going to stand idly by? If she didn't wish the treatment to be put on her, why would she sit by and let it happen to others? Did her mother's blood painting the walls of their one-bedroom apartment mean anything to her? That is, if she was willing to go back there again, to the room that served as the grave of an innocent girl's spirit? In a metaphoric sense. The taste and the smell of copper. Her mother's blood crying out to her, crying out for revenge. She ignored it until now. Her mission was to find Izin's killer, not her mother's. Yet, that pesky worm wasn't going to let her be.

If she was going to do this, she wasn't doing it alone. That would be suicide. Poker Face was powerful in her own right, but unstoppable? Immortal? All highly doubtful scenarios and she wasn't about to entertainment any one of them. No. She would need back-up. But who? Anybody who owed her favor would look at her like she'd grown a second head or run off and tell Kurosawa what she was doing. She could ask Sakyo for a favor, but how much would he be willing to ask for in return? Poker Face pressed her brains for an answer.

Then, it struck her like a lightning bolt. A little grin went from ear to ear. She got an idea. A wonderfully, horrible idea.

* * *

No sooner had they gotten the new mission from Koenma than a mysterious, unknown number called his cell. At first, Yusuke didn't answer because he didn't recognize the number flashing. It dialed a second and third time before he finally answered.

"Look, I don't know what you're tryin' to sell me but I ain't buy-"

"I don't even get a 'hello' or 'how are you,' Spirit Detective?"

"Poker Face!" He growled, grabbing the attention of his friends and comrades. They turned to see him clutching his phone with renewed vigor. "What do you want and how did you get my number?"

"For starters, I'll answer the latter first. I did a _lot _of research. That included phone numbers. Nothing gets past me. Well, sweet heart, it's not a matter of what I want, it's what you want." She giggled.

"I don't have time for your crap. Just tell me what you're on about!"

"So hostile." Poker Face sighed. "As for the question you really want to know the answer to, I have certain information you may want about your latest mission."

Yusuke paused. "My mission? How could you know that?"

"Lucky guess. Sooner or later, he would have sent you, right? The way those girls are disappearing, no manner of human could have done it."

"Are you behind this!" Yusuke shouted into the phone.

"Calm down, prince charming. I swear, you must beating off those girls with a stick," she teased. "I have nothing to do with it, however I know the people who are, and if you're willing to meet me at a place of your choosing, we can discuss what I can do for you."

"What's your price?" Something in his gut was telling him she wasn't going to give up any information without a fight. He was also testing her. If she didn't ask for money, he knew it was trap. A woman like her didn't do anything for free.

"I don't want cash, if that's what you're implying."

Yusuke tightened his fist until his knuckles turned white. He knew it.

"But nothing comes for free either. We can discuss our terms of payment when we meet in person."

"How am I supposed to trust you? How do I know you're not setting us up to get killed?"

There was a long moment of silence. Yusuke was about to hang up when Poker Face's voice chirped up again.

"I suppose you can't, but what other choice do you have. I have information that I'm willing to share it at a fair trade and you need to save some girls from being sold to the highest bidder."

Was it just him or did her tone suddenly turn dark just as she mentioned selling girls at an auction?

"Do you know where the park is in Mushiyori City?"

Poker Face giggled.

"Sweetie, there's only _one _park in this dumb town."

"Wait, you're still here?" She couldn't still be right under their noses. Could she?

"What do you think, sweetie?" Judging by her sugary sweet tone, she was still in the vicinity of the city. Koenma wasn't going to be happy about this.

"Meet us at ten tomorrow."

"Perfect. And just as a show of faith, I won't even wear anything I can turn into a weapon. Not even my jewelry. It's a date, then! See you later, sweeting!" She blew him a kiss over the phone before hanging up.

* * *

Poker Face was right. There was only one park in the whole city. They waited around in the dark, walking around and feeling like idiots. There wasn't a trace of her. It was almost thirty minutes after the appointed time, when they saw a tall, feminine figure rounding the corner. They heard her first. The clip-clop of her stiletto heels. It was nearly impossible to miss a woman like that. Poker Face prowled the night in her black suit, the expanse of her generous chest exposed to catch unsuspecting men. Her smirking lips were painted blood red. Half of her face was hidden by her long locks and that stupid hat of hers.

"You're late," Yusuke approached her, looking around for something that she would use as a weapon. By the looks of it, she was unharmed.

"The taxi service around here is horrid." She feigned innocence. "Can you blame me for being a little late?"

"Cut the crap. What do you know about those missing girls?"

Poker Face giggled, mocking him. Yusuke's fists tightened at his sides.

"Now, now, sweetie. I'm not nearly dumb as you are." She enjoyed watching him grind his teeth as she dug deeper under his skin, metaphorically speaking. "If I tell you what I know before getting my payment, who's the fool then? I'm not saying a word until I get what I want. Understood?"

"Then name your price." Yusuke ordered.

Her smile reached from ear to ear.

"Immunity."

Yusuke's face scrunched in confusion. "Come again?"

"I want," Poker Face spoke slowly. "A clean slate. If you can get Koenma to wipe my criminal record, I'll do more than tell you what I know. I'll help you."

"You do realize that he'll never agree. You've caused quite a bit of damage and he knows your reputation." Said Kurama.

Her eyes narrowed at him. "Like I'm going to take advice from you. The poster-boy for Spirit World's probation program. He'll give me what he wants unless he wants the blood of young women all over his hands."

She retrieved a carton of cigarettes from her front jacket pocket along with a red lighter. With one end pressed firmly between her lips, she flicked the lighter and an orange flame danced in the evening breeze. The cigarette between her teeth was lit, the lighter and carton were stashed back in her pocket, and the boys were left wondering how she could fit them back inside her tight clothing.

"Why would you help in the first place? You don't look like the kind of woman who does charity over the weekend," Yusuke chided.

Poker Face's smile dropped a little, a very subtle but visible change and if you didn't catch it, you were blind. She took a long drag from her cigarette before answering.

"My reasons are my own. I don't need to tell you anything." She faced Yusuke, who was staring at her. He didn't seem to accept her answer. That curiosity would be the death of him.

Taking another drag from her cigarette, she blew the smoke right in his face. The disgruntled teenager also seemed very used to the gesture. He barely flinched.

"Ugh," Poker Face groaned. "If you must know, my reasons may be a little _personal._"

"Personal."

The kid didn't know when to back off.

Poker Face wandered a little off the trail. She picked a spot under a tree and leaned against it, and propped one leg up, heel resting against its trunk. Her cigarette was almost finished.

"Let's just say I'm willing to do a lot of things for money. Murder, theft, grand larceny, arson, but for some reason prostitution and human trafficking get under my skin. Don't know why though, rather curious."

"Doesn't that make you a hypocrite?"

Poker Face shrugged her shoulders. "Probably." She lost her good mood. Finishing off her cigarette, she flicked the useless thing into the grass and crushed the embers underfoot for good measure. "Call me when you get Koenma's answer."

"Don't hold your breath!" Yusuke shouted to her back.

She suddenly stopped. There was something she almost forgot to do. Poker Face turned her head to look over her shoulder. Hiei's beady red eyes were glaring at her from afar. The look sent delightful shivers up her spine. She winked and blew him a kiss. In reply to her display of affection, he unsheathed his sword and charged before any of his friends could stop him. Had she been merely human, she would be dead. His movements were faster than the speed of light. In the blink of any eye, he had already jumped in the air a few feet in front of her. His sword was a sliver of silver in the yellow street lamps. Unfortunately for him, she wasn't merely human. Not anymore.

Poker Face caught the blade just in time, but to be fair, she could have done that at any time. Gravity brought Hiei to his feet. He teeth were grinding his lower into dust. Poker Face licked her lips at the sight of his rage and frustration.

"I'd be careful, sweetie," she grabbed the sword closer to the hilt with her other hand and slowly began to bend it. "I might take it as flirting next time you swing your sword at me."

"You're insane," Hiei seethed.

"Only a little," the sword finally snapped in two.

The boys behind Hiei were shocked into silence. Poker Face's tiny little hands snapped solid steel in two. She grabbed the broken sword from Hiei, but met with some resistance. With some struggle, she wrenched it out of his hands. The broken pieces of the sword were placed in one hand as she brought the other to her mouth. Her teeth made an audible squish as she sunk fangs into her palm. Blood seeped from her hand and past her lips, dribbling down her chin. The sword's blade was sunk into the earth and Poker Face held the handle directly on top. The darkness made it difficult to perfectly line up the broken pieces. Once that was done, she held the handle against the blade and pressed her bleeding hand around the sword's 'wound.' Her blood colored the silver steel with rusty blood.

Hiei watched as her blood was suddenly sucked right into the crack. Seconds passed. His eyes didn't leave his sword until the crack was completely healed. It vanished before his eyes. Poker Face pulled the sword out of the ground; it was whole again. They stared directly into each others eyes. Warm brown eyes glistened in the heat of a red glare. Poker Face never broke contact. Without even looking, she pressed the sword back into his hand.

"Now you'll carry a little piece of me wherever you go." And for added humiliation, she pecked him on the cheek, leaving a tell-tale maroon kiss mark tainting his skin.

Hiei couldn't swing his sword fast enough. Poker Face had already moved out of the way, using speeds that rivaled his own. She blew him one more kiss before vanished into the night.


	7. Ch 6: One Way or Another

Poker Face was minding her own business (I swear!) in the middle of the afternoon. She had just painted her toenails with a new shade of red, 'Crimson Velore,' and was waiting for them to dry. Her hand rested on the T.V remote, aimlessly flipping channels. Bored out of her mind, Poker Face glanced at her phone for the umpteenth time in that whole afternoon in her luxurious hotel room. Despite having all the amenities she could want or need, Poker Face stuck herself firmly into her mountain of pillows and sat on her bed channeling surfing. Her phone just lay there on the nightstand, charging. Her lips curled into a pout. She was growing impatient. But then again, perhaps she had asked for too much? However, Koenma might just be desperate enough to take her help. She would bet on that.

Still, the phone lay prone, silent. Poker Face sank into her pillows, groaning. Boredom was a dangerous game for her. It left her feeling wanting and pent-up and it wouldn't be long before cabin fever set in. She stared at her nails, digging out whatever dirt might be under there. Amazingly, her fingertips were uniform and 'Crimson Velore' remained in one piece, no chipping. Out of the corner of her eye, she glared at her phone.

"Come on, ring already." She said grinding her teeth.

As if obeying her command, the phone lit up like fireworks. Poker Face immediately grabbed for and pressed her fine manicured nail against the 'answer' button.

"Hello," she chimed.

"Poker Face." It was the Spirit Detective.

"Why hello there, Urameshi! And here I was thinking that you'd never call. What's Koenma's answer? Is he willing to pay my price?"

There was a pause.

"Yeah. You'll get what you want. _After_ you help save those girls. Are we clear?"

"Crystal." Poker Face swung her legs over the side of the bed, hopping from the fluffy mattress. "Is there a private place we may reconvene later this evening?"

"Yeah."

"Text me the address and I'll meet you there at, how do you feel about midnight?"

"Midnight?" He squawked. "Some of us have to sleep."

Poker Face sighed.

"One thing you'll learn about the criminal underground, _boy_, is that they tend to operate under the cover of darkness. It wouldn't do well for business to traffic young women in broad daylight, would it?"

"No." He groaned in agreement.

"Besides, I have a little recognizance to do before we start the operation. You'll want to know where they're keeping the girls and when the auction will be. Don't you?"

"Sure. Whatever. Just don't do anything stupid like betraying us!"

"I still don't have your vote of confidence? That really hurts you know."

"Like I care."

"How rude," Poker Face playfully scoffed.

"Are we done here?"

"Oh yes. We're done, but do give my best to Hiei for me. Please and thank you." She hung up before he could. A subtle display of domination. She couldn't let him think that he was the one pulling the strings, now could she?

* * *

"Do you think she knows that you lied to her?" Asked Kurama.

"I don't think so." Yusuke answered, typing in Genkai's address and sending the text.

"Let's hope that they never meet. It could prove to be dangerous. I'm not sure how stable she might be."

"She _likes_ Hiei. Unstable is putting it mildly."

"I don't follow."

"I thought you were supposed to be smart. She kissed him on the cheek and teased him. She clearly likes him for some reason, and that's reason enough to know that she's bat-shit crazy."

"I don't think she likes him like that. No, she is not a creature of affection. She must have an underlying motive. She seems rather preoccupied with him, true. It does beg the question: Why? What would she want with you, Hiei?"

Hiei didn't answer, only grumbled something unintelligible under his breath.

"In any case, she'll come back for you, won't she?"

Hiei still didn't answer.

"Would you answer his questions already? Stop being such a stubborn punk!" Yusuke chucked the pillow behind his back at Hiei.

The pillow landed squarely in his face. A whole second passed before his hand reached for the pillow and ripped it away. Hiei rose to his face and grabbed his sword. Murder was on his brain. Luckily for Yusuke, Kurama was there to stop him from running the Spirit Detective through with the sword.

"Hiei, don't. If you kill him, you're looking at a one way ticket to your own execution."

Hiei glared at Kurama's hand around his arm. Slowly, he sheathed his sword again. He ripped his arm away from Kurama and flitted off somewhere to seethe.

"What's his problem? He's been more agitated than usual."

"Poker Face probably got under his skin."

"So you do think she likes him?"

"Not quite, I think it's part of her tactics. She flirts and teases to the point where her opponent has no choice but to submit. Resisting temptation is easier said than done. Hiei, I believe, is caught between those two feelings and doesn't know how to respond. It must be frustrating to him to no end."

"Ha, no kidding!"

"But you're right. I too wonder what her fixation with Hiei is about. It's too random and even if she's mad, crazy as you call it, Yusuke, she's much smarter than she looks. She likes to pick and choice her victims. She's a mercenary, an underground subcontractor. That comes with the perks of picking what she wants. It's not in her nature to be authentically romantic with anyone."

"Whatever it is, that's between her and Hiei. I'm not getting between that." Yusuke raised his hands.

"Agreed."

* * *

"Lipstick."

Check.

"Hair."

Fabulous.

"Dress."

Sleek, slim, and sexy.

"Makeup."

Flawless.

"Eye patch."

Covered.

Poker Face gave herself one more once over in the mansion's second floor bathroom. Sneaking in was a cinch. No matter how strong a bodyguard could be, she always found a way to use her charms. Even the pope couldn't withstand her advances.

Her usual contacts provided the information, all she had to do was get there. Even rented a car for the evening. All for the sleazy informant who was bound to show up at this party. Only, he didn't he was an informant. Not yet, not until she got her hands on him.

Poker Face smirked at her reflection in the mirror. A little black number to emphasize her perfect hour-glass figure and a diamond pendant to throw off suspicion. Matching bobbles hung from her ears too, just to be safe. Subtle evening makeup made her irresistible to the opposite sex while not trying too hard. Part of her copper hair hung towards the left side of her face to hide most of the black eye patch. She was being risky tonight. Going out like this. She could be easily spotted. It wasn't difficult to find her in a crowd if you knew what you were looking for.

Poker Face snapped her lipstick case closed and stuffed it inside her evening bag. Right next to her bottle of homemade chloroform and a clean rag. The party was in full throttle. Jazz music thrummed in the air. Champagne and wine were trotted around by waiters dressed like penguins. The guests were in black and white tuxedos or expensive gowns and cocktail dresses. One or two faces looked familiar. One male guest happened to glance her way, curious to who she was. Upon recognizing her, his face flushed with crimson color, the same shade as the glass full of wine that his wife, standing next to him, was holding. P. F. couldn't resist giving him a daring wink. But he wasn't her target tonight.

One of her other informants assured her that the one she was looking for would be here. Taizo Higarugi was the man, a copy of his face from a newspaper was conjured up in her mind. A particularly wealthy stock trader and vice president to a very large internationally known corporation by day, and by night the owner of one or more gambling dens and proprietor of several brothels close to this city, as well as half a dozen other places in Japan. It wasn't so much that these were brothels, it was that sometimes, in eight out of ten cases, the women either weren't legal or willing. Just the kind of man who would know about illegal trafficking of a certain kind of _livestock_, if you will.

Quickly growing impatient with all of the smiling faces mocking her, P.F. yanked a waiter off to the side, almost throwing his tray full of shrimp cocktails to the floor and smashing the expensive crystal containers. He gulped when he saw her. She must have appeared more intimidating than she wanted to.

"Do you know if Taizo Higarugi is here? I was told he would be attending the party. He and I have a _business adventure _to talk about, but darned if I can't find him anywhere." She tried to make up for the scary face she didn't mean to make and asked in such a sickly sweet tone that P.F. felt a toothache coming on.

Shakily, the waiter pointed over to the bar. P.F. could make out a familiar head of graying black hair. A man in his late forties was busied himself in a deep conversation with the man on his left. P.F. released the startled young man and crossed the ballroom. Quietly, she took the seat next to the empty one on Higarugi's right. Ordering a bloody Mary, she waited for the men to notice her. Purposely pushing her arms closer to her chest to make her breasts appear larger and more supple, P.F. looked out the corner of her eye to see if the fish started to take the bait. It took a few minutes longer than usual for Higarugi's friend to stop their conversation and notice her. He jabbed Higarugi in the ribs with his elbow before pointing in her direction. The latter oh-so-subtle licked his lips. The friends parted, Higarugi was patted on the back. A gesture of encouragement, P.F. guessed.

The man in question made his way to the seat next to her. She turned slightly to greet him, giving him a better view of her eye-candy.

"How can I help you?" She sipped her drink.

"I was wondering what your name might be, milady." He bent over, grabbed her hand, and brought it to her lips.

She giggled though in truth she wanted to heave herself over the bar and empty the contents of her stomach. In the shower, she would be scrubbing her hand extra hard later.

As her hand fell to her lap, P.F. smirked.

"Aiko…Yagami. It means 'love child.'" There wasn't nearly enough vodka in her drink to make her forget. She would need about…12 more of these before she'd be willing to flirt with this monstrosity.

"I'm Taizo Higarugi. It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Yagami." He stared at her chest for a little while before moving his eyes up to her face. "What brings you here?"

"You could say that I'm interested in some espionage."

"You're a spy?" This made Higarugi chuckle.

"A business of sorts."

"I hope I'm not distracting you." He leaned in a bit. His breath was now at her bare shoulder; his lips nearly touching her skin.

"I find you to be perfectly distracting." She sighed. "I have a thing for older men, you know."

"You do, do you?" He took the opportunity to put his greedy hand over her knee.

P.F. was tempted to punch him. The man made her skin crawl for all the wrong reasons. Men like him made her sick to her stomach, but if she were to be paid this was just a minor inconvenience. Perhaps if pretended he was someone else, it would make this job a whole lot easier.

"Young men are so boring. Always trying to play themselves up, but when you're in bed with them most are so inexperienced that you have to resist the urge to laugh. They barely have a college education, entry level jobs, and have no idea how to please a woman. It's like they're not even trying."

"Is that why you prefer older men?"

P.F. hummed in confirmation. She turned her head completely so that their faces were almost touching.

"Psychological surveys have shown a greater number of women prefer to have partners that are strong, confident, powerful. Where does power come from? Physical strength, good looks, _stamina_, brains, and, yes, money. Mr. Higarugi, may I ask you a question?"

"Sure," he teased her with a brief case to her lips and pulled away quickly.

P.F. leaned in even closer. She snuggled against his neck, inhaling his scent. His cologne was one of the most obnoxious ones she smelled all evening. While he was distracted, she fished her hands into her hand bag and prepared the chloroform rag. The bottle nearly slipped. She managed to screw the cap tight around the bottle while her other hand was preoccupied with the rag. Within the safe confines of her purse, he couldn't have smelled the faint perfume from the rag. She nipped along the line of his throat before reaching up and licked his ear.

"Can I take you home tonight?"

There was glimmer in his eyes when he pulled away. In the next instant, she was French kissing a perfect stranger while struggling to find a way to get the chloroform rag out of her purse and use it on Higarugi without anyone noticing. The guests seemed distracted enough and the bar tender disappeared for a smoke break, if she heard him correctly.

Slowly rising and without breaking contact, P.F. forced her body on top of his. He was shorter than her, but at least he was sitting in a chair and made it easier for her to do this. Away from prying eyes, she successfully pulled the rag from her purse. Fisting it in hand, she waited for just the right moment to strike. Swirling her tongue around like she was fishing for something, Higarugi's hands traveled up the length of her sides, measuring her up, fondling her through the silken fabric. His greedy paws rested on her hips. Pulling her close, he pressed her firmly against him, as if trying to mold her form to his. She playfully bit his lower lip, to which the man passionately reciprocated by biting hers, only harder. He was getting impatient, if the hot and hard area between his legs was anything to go by. P.F. moved her hand with the rag closer to his face. She pulled away from him, a trail of slimy saliva still stringing them together.

But speaking of stringing things or people along…

She glanced this way and that. Quickly, she shoved the rag in Higarugi's face while he was still in a blind trance from the kiss. He clamped his hands around her wrist, but the more he panicked the more he inhaled the sickly sweetness of oblivion. In a few minutes, his iron-strong hold on vanished. His body went slack.

P.F. shoved the rag back into her purse. She looked around. Nobody seemed to have seen anything. She looped her arm behind his back and lifted him out of the chair. She carried him like this down the stairs (easier said than done by the way), through the foyer, and outside where her hot face steamed up from seducing the man met with the chilly night wind like a sucker punch to the face. The valet driver thought it strange that she was leaving with someone and she certainly didn't have anybody with her at arrival. P.F. dismissed this by calling Higarugi an 'old friend' and wanted to take him home because he was so _obviously _drunk. For a split second, P.F. was worried the silly little fool didn't buy her story. He left and returned with her rented car, dispelling her fear. The man even helped her put the unconscious Higarugi in the passage seat and buckle him in. He even opened the car door for her! What a nice man. Too bad she couldn't tip him. She wouldn't want to run the risk of accidentally dropping the chloroform rag giving him his due.

* * *

"What the hell did you do!?"

That wasn't quite the reaction she wanted or expected upon her arrival at the address. P.F. stumbled into the temple at the appointed time. Higarugi was groaning like the undead; he was starting to wake up.

"I told you that I had an informant to meet." Her reply was completely nonchalant. It irritated the spirit detective to no end.

"I didn't think you would drug him and bring him here!"

"He's half-unconscious. He won't know where he is." She promptly dumped him in the nearest room. "Now, we just have to wait for him to wake up."

"What makes you think this was good idea?" Yusuke continued to shout. He was starting to make her ears ring. The only reason he was still alive was because it would be a minor inconvenience for her if she killed him. Right about now, she was thinking that even a minor inconvenience could be ignored or dealt with.

"How else did you expect me to get the information? I reckon we have only a few hours left before those girls disappear for good. This way it's faster."

"You kidnapped a man! What were you thinking?"

"Urameshi, the only reason why you're alive is because I can't be bother to handle the consequences later if I put a bullet between your eyes. Don't make me rethink that that small inconvenience would be too much trouble," P.F. growled.

Higarugi let out a long, powerful groan. He slowly got to his hands and knees. His hand reached up to touch run his hands through his hair.

"W-where…am i?"

"Excuse me, Urameshi." She shoved him out of the way. "I have work to do."

Turning to the disoriented man she left in the middle of the room, P.F. used the toe of her shoe to tip Higarugi's head upwards. For a second, his clouded eyes couldn't make out a proper image of her. It took him several minutes for the picture to clear up. Once his vision corrected itself, Higarugi snarled and glared up at her.

"Good morning, sunshine? Have a nice nap?"

"You little b—"

One powerful kick sent him flying across the room.

"I would choose your words very carefully, Mr. Higarugi. If you think that I'm just some trembling wallflower," she picked him up by his shirt collar and slammed his back into the closest wall. "You've got another thing coming."

Her superior strength shocked him, however that didn't stop him from wrestling with her cloying hand at his throat.

"W-what do you…want? Money?" He spat, some of his spittle landed on her cheek. He smirked at the small victory.

P.F. calmly, silently, stoically, wiped it away.

"I don't want your filthy money, Mr. Higarugi. The only thing I'm interested in is information. Information which only you can give. You're going to tell my friend over there exactly what you know about all the girls that have gone missing lately. And I believe for even a second that you're lying or holding information, I'll make you wish you were never born."

Higarugi snorted.

"What's a woman like you going to do?"

P.F. sighed. Her free hand brushed back her hair, revealing the eyepatch.

"Urameshi?"

"What?"

"Close the door. And no matter what you hear, don't open it."

"What are you going to do?"

"Uncovering my eye of course."

Shivers ran up his spine. The way she said made it sound like a real threat. Whatever was she hiding under there couldn't be anything good. Even if the guy was a complete scum bag, there was no way he was going to leave him to the mercy of whatever horror Poker Face planned on unleashing.

"I'm not going anywhere."

"The more time you waste, the less time those girls have! Unless you want their blood on your hands, I suggest you do as I say and shut the damn door!"

Yusuke remained standing.

"Besides," she hissed while she chuckled. "It's not like I'm going to maim. Rest assured, his body will be in one piece by the time I'm through."

She glared at him. If he didn't do as she said, they'd lose the girls for good. They'd be scattered to the wind. If he did, he'd lose a part of his humanity. Nothing under that eyepatch could be any kind of good. Even Yusuke had a conscience. A lose-lose situation. A double-edged sword.

At the cost of a chip from his own soul, Yusuke closed the door. He waited with baited breath. A second went by. Then another. And another. And another. And then another. A whole minute ticked by. All he could hear was some faint murmuring, probably P.F. gearing up for the real deal. Or maybe she was prolonging the moment just for his torture, Urameshi's, not Higarugi's.

It would be something she woul—

A hideous scream curved his train of thought to a violent derailment. It took him a moment to even register what that sound was. It was likened to the howling of a dying animal. Only after listening very closely could you even begin to realize that the howling came from a human throat.

Yusuke shot himself away from the door, too scared out of his wits to stand close to the door. He heard running down the hall. Kurama, Kuwabara, and Botan were racing down the corridor to find the source of such horrible screaming. They waited outside the door. Too afraid to open it, they stood around and exchanged horrified glances. Botan became so pale that she scurried away to safety. Kuwabara soon joined her.

After what seemed like an eternity, it suddenly stopped. Yusuke thrust open the door.

Higarugi lay on the ground, curled up in the fetal position. Nothing more than a heap of misery and dread. He was nor less than three shades whiter than when he was thrown inside like a rag doll that Poker Face didn't want to play with any more. Sweat, tears and mucus dribbled down his sullen, pallid face. It wasn't a ghost he saw. It was a devil.

P.F. busied herself with readjusting her eye patch and fixing her hair, as if the whole ordeal she put Higarugi through was just as ordinary as brushing her teeth or tying her shoes. Yusuke stormed across the room, seized her by the front of her dress, and shoved her against the wall. It was almost entirely pointless as one, she could easily beat him, and two, she was much taller than he was. It was hard for him to be intimidating when he had to look up in order to sneer in her face.

"What did you do to him?"

"What was necessary? He's more than willing to cooperate now."

Yusuke hadn't the desire to smash her face in. He would save that joy for later. Looking over his shoulder, he saw Kurama attending to him.

"Where do you get off just deciding that you can do whatever you want? Don't you have any humanity left in you!"

P.F. knocked him to the ground as if he were nothing more than a child. She sneered back at him, her one good eye glaring at him. She pointed to her left eye. The eyepatch barely covered some of the scars that appeared a twisting spider webs across that portion of her face.

"It was humans that did this to me in the first place." She seethed.

"Don't…"Higarugi whispered. It was barely audible.

"Hey. What's up with him?" Yusuke asked Kurama.

"I don't know. He was catatonic a moment ago."

"Don't." Higarugi said louder this time. "Don't."

"Sir, keep calm. We'll get you to a doctor. Just try to stay with us." Kurama tried to get him to lay down. Higarugi struggled.

"Don't! Don't!" He screamed. "Don't let her come near me! I'll tell you whatever you want! Just keep that psychopath away from me!"

"You heard the man. Get lost."

"My jobs done here anyway." P.F. wasn't even insulted. She needed to get changed anyway.

"It was Katsugi's idea! He said that nobody would suspect a small city like this to be the shipping point. We…we've got the girls locked up in Pier 15…on, on, on the docks by the old shipping district. He said…he said…he said…."

Kurama placed his ear against the man's chest. His whole face screwed up.

"He's going into cardiac arrest!"

Higarugi gasped for breath like a fish out of water.

"Wait!" P.F. shouted. "Katsugi? Is that what he said? Akira Katsugi? Is that what means?"

"A-kira Katsu…gi. Akira…yes."

Higarugi gave a few final breaths before going into his death throes. Kurama tried his best to give the man CPR. By then, it was useless. His heart stopped beating all together. His death rattle sent a shiver down Yusuke's spine. He looked at Poker Face. She was 100% indifferent to all of it. She just killed a man and she looked no more interested in the situation even if it was her mother dying. Yusuke gazed up at her honey-colored eye, an empty fathomless pit.

Springing up, he charged, screaming at the top of his lungs as he did so. His fist rammed into her stomach over and over again. She made no sound. She made no resistance. She let him do as he pleased. Yusuke only stopped because his arm was getting tired. Her dress and her hair was disheveled, but other than that, P.F. appeared unharmed and unimpressed.

"Is that honestly the best you've got? I've been hit worse." She smirked and examined her nails.


	8. Ch 7: Twisted Nerve

Warning: language, adult themes, and violence. To be honest, this is really more rated M than it is T for teen. It's kind of gory. But, hey, if you're into that, please feel free to leave a comment down below.

* * *

Pier 15, a dark desolate place. The air smelled of stale salt water, rust, and desolation. The old shipping yard was just that, old. Abandoned for quite some time, the wharf had been left to decay and crumble where they stood. Brick buildings where fisherman used to sort out their fare and chop them up into pieces for market. The smell of rotting fish pervaded the senses like a strong punch to the sinuses. P.F appeared nowhere in sight. All the better. She was a nusance and dangerous. A threat.

Not bothering to tell the police in case they shouldn't get there in time (besides the fact that it would be difficult to explain how they came across this information), Yusuke and his company stuck out in the middle of the night, taking the bus to the stop closest to the pier without drawing too much attention to themselves. Mostly in dark colors, they stuck to creeping around the shadows. So far, no one stopped them. They couldn't see anyone either. Kurama thought he saw Hiei flit through the dark night skies, but couldn't be sure. With no means of connecting him, it wouldn't help them calling for him in the dark. The point of the mission thus far was to sneak over to Pier 15 without as few witnesses as possible. Lethal force accepted.

They edged closer and closer to their destination. The wharf was a lot bigger than they estimated. Plenty of places to hide. The shadows seemed to creep around them. Kuwabara frequently checked the darkened holes in the abandoned buildings, straining his eyes in the dark to find something that clearly wasn't there. After a few times, Yusuke had enough.

"Will you stop? We're FINE! Just shut up and walk. Slowly."

As they edged closer. Noises became clear.

"Do you guys hear that?"

Yusuke and Kurama shushed him. They ducked around a corner and hid behind some trash cans and abandoned bags of rubbish. Carefully, they poked their heads out from around the corner. A tall building remained lit up while all the rest stood in the deep blackness. Two men stood on guard outside the front entrance. It seemed too busy. Only two guards? Perhaps their enemy was cocky? That would be the only explanation. That was the only way to explain why they were confident to put just two men outside to look for unwanted guests. Kurama shared his thoughts, but it didn't seem to matter much to Yusuke. His cooked up a half-cocked plan inside his greasy head. He might have been able to share it with his friends had he not been distracted by the pair of headlights coming down from the other end of the filthy alleyway.

Terrified, Yusuke and the others turned to find a shining pair of headlights heading towards them. Blinded, they braced themselves for an attack from anywhere at any moment now. Suddenly, the roar of the engine died along with the headlights. A car door opened and shut quietly. A pair of distinctive heel clicks came towards them.

"Sup boys. Are you carrying pocket knives in your pants or are you just happy to see me?" P.F. giggled.

"Poker Face," they each answered with a unanimous tone of disgust.

"What are you doing here?" Asked Yusuke.

"Same as you. Trying to do one good deed. Can you look a girl in the face and say that you think otherwise?" She batted her lashes, pouting her red lips and tried her best to look as pathetic as possible.

"Yes. You killed a man."

"And your soul is sparkling clean, Yusuke Urameshi? It isn't wise for the pot to call the kettle black, you know." Poker Face sneered. She reached into her jacket and pulled out a lighter and cigarette. Leaning against her car, she lit up and stuffed the rest back in her jacket. "So, what's the plan?"

"Excuse me? Do you honestly think that we're going to let _you_ help after what you did to that guy? Which by the way, I'm still curious how you managed to traumatize a grown man in under ten minutes," Yusuke approached her. A crowbar lay in the wayside. He barely had the strength and patience to resist the urge to bust up her headlights. P.F. saw his eyes flicker towards it. Even in the dark she could still see the burning desire behind his eyes as he glared at her car.

"Don't even think it. This is a Mercedes. Italian. You bust my car, I bust your face." She threatened before taking a long drag from her cigarette. The ashes missed her expensive-looking shoes by a mere margin.

"What makes you think that we'll trust you long enough to help, if that really is what you plan to do? You don't have a decent track record nor do we believe that you're the kind of person who wants to help. Beg your pardon, but this is not in your character," Kurama glanced at her. P.F. dressed oddly, but that seemed to be part of her character certainly. Expensive clothes and shoes, make-up, foreign cars, one would think she wanted to be noticed, the center of attention. A pyscological analysis would take too long and would probably just barely scratch the surface. He could see a brooding madness in her eyes—eye—waiting to get out. She could reap, as a matter of fact she did reap so much havoc in her wake. Fear of death nor the consequences of her actions seemed to give her a moment's hesitation. She always acted first, and thought last.

"That's simple, my fine red-haired little piece of ass," P.F. tossed the stub of her finished cigarette to the ground and snuff the small still-glowing ember with her heel. "Those two guards are just there for looks. I can assure you that if you burst in from any door, you'll be gunned down. Let me distract them, and you may just get out of alive."

P.F. proceeded down the alley. They watched her saunter down the street.

"Hello boys, I came here for my boss. Won't you be dears and let me through?"

One of the guards reached for her. P.F. grabbed him by the wrist and tossed him over her shoulder. He landed with a thud and he screamed when she twisted his wrist, breaking it. His partner didn't take too kindly to that. She let the other guard go. Reaching into the sleeve of her jacket, the boys hanging behind the wall saw something long, thin, and shiny like gunmetal slip into her hand. The blade cut through the guard's stomach. With a grunt, he landed not far from his comrade who was slowly getting back up. They watched P.F. reach for her earrings. She used some kind of magic on the pieces of metal and her earring turned into an intimidating handgun. A bang, a flash and gunpowder, the smell of smell of hot copper filled the air.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Just stick behind me and you get yourselves inside!" P.F. tore open the doors.

The boys rushed over. As P.F. predicted an army of guards surrounded them. In the darkened corner of the warehouse, two dozen young girls, not much older than fourteen, were dressed in scant pieces of clothing, all dolled up and waiting for auction. A tall man in a dark gray business suit looked up from his cell phone. With the boys, he didn't pay much attention to. He gave them a dismissive glance. Poker Face, on the other hand, held his attention. His coal-black eyes stared at her, examining her features. Some of the guards raised their weapons as she stepped forward, pistol still in hand.

"And who do we have here? Guests?"

"Something like that," P.F. chuckled. "Are you Akira Katsugi?"

"And if I was?" He reached inside his suit jacket.

"Nothing more than curiosity…" She acted quicker than his body guards who shoot. She hit them first, knocking down five of them without even reloading. The pistol butt cracked the head hancho square in the jaw. P.F. summoned another handgun, identical to the first, from her earring.

"Look alive, Sunshine. 109 in the sky, but the pigs won't quit. You're here with me, Dr. Death-dfying. I'll be your surgeon, your proctor, your helicopter. Pumping out the slaughter-matic sounds to keep you alive—"

"What the hell is she saying?" Said Kuwabara.

"What the hell is she doing?" Yusuke got himself into a fighting stance. Thankfully, not all of the guards had guns. Pretty stupid.

"A system failure for the masses. Anti-matter for the master plan…"

"Why is she still going!" Yusuke punched the nearest guard and quickly deflected another's attack.

"Louder than gods' revolver, and twice as shiny!" P.F. raised both pistols in the air in an overdramatic pose. "This one's for all you rock'n rollers, all you crash queens and motor babies!"

" . ?" Yusuke screamed as if she could hear him, and if she did, like it would matter. Like she gave a damn.

"Listen up! The future is bullet proof! The aftermath is secondary! It's time to do it now and do it loud! Killjoys, make some noise!"

_BANG! BANG!_

The girls in the back were screaming and crying their eyes out once the battle was under way. They huddled and grabbed onto each other for dear life. Amidst the fighting, a silver lining appeared. The back door creaked open. A short little man with blood red eyes stood in the door way.

"If you want to live, I suggest you leave now."

They didn't need to be told twice. Hurried masses fled through the door. The enraged ring leader, now fully conscious, glared at the short man who just let all of that profit escape. A trickle of blood ran down his cheek from the cut P.F. gave him.

"You bas—"

"Uh-oh, it seems I didn't hit you hard enough." Poker Face shot down two more guards before kicking Katsugi hard in the stomach. Her heel landed in his gut but it wasn't enough put him to the ground.

"You little bitch!" Katsugi retrieved the gun from his jacket. The hollow point bullet scraped by, grazing her bronzed cheek.

P.F. responded by shooting him point blank in the shoulders. Yusuke saw something raw in her eye. Something that yearned for bloodlust. Poker Face stopped kidding around. Her red lips resembled those of a true blood drinker, snarling and sneering, snapping her sharpened teeth. Her eye glowed with pure unadulterated rage unknown in any man or beast. She stopped caring about the guards, about the boys, about the abducted victims. She turned into something much worse than what she had been.

"I was wondering when I would get to see you at last," she growled. "Father."

Katsugi paled, then he sneered. "I don't have any daughters. Least of all a disgusting slut like you!"

The condescending ripple of dark laughter that escape P.F.'s throat would send a chill down any demon's spine. Her lips, not so much snarling at the moment, peeled back. The corners of her lips turned up, and a grin stretched from ear to ear. A mad grin, an insand grin, a smile filled with daggers that waited to sink into Katsugi's flesh.

"You don't remember a woman…in Kyoto?"

"Woman?" His brows furrowed. "What wom—"

He suddenly remembered. He nearly went cross-eyed examining P.F.'s face. Up close and personal, he could see all of the finer details. Even with make-up, her features were quite distinctive.

"You?" He snarled like a dog, the corners of his lips curling.

"Me," Poker Face chuckled.

"She didn't—"

"Of course she didn't. You kind of killed her. After you hired men to violate her, and I watched the whole thing from the closet. You know, it's funny actually. People always ask me if I have daddy issues. Well, not for much longer." Her grin grew more fearsome, more frightening. "You see the family resemblance, don't you, _Father?_ How much I look like my mother? That's what our neighbors used to say. Before _they_ came to take me away after you gutted her like a pig in her own bed!"

P.F. transformed her gun into a long digger. Its tip disappeared into Katsugi's gut. She sneered at his paling face as he bled out all of her pants and shoes.

"This..was couture, asshole," she twisted the knife. Dropping the other gun, Poker Face gripped the knife with both hands, pushing the sharp end deeper into the wound.

"You…dirty wh—"

"That's right, continue to mock the woman who's stabbing you." She leaned in towards his ear, hissing, "I'm going to do gut you like you did to my mother, you scum-sucking, filching bastard!"

Katsugi offered no resistance. As the blood drained from his body, he crumbled at her feet. He reached towards his guards but they were either dead or unconscious, or they were busy making a run for it. All of his breath left his body when Poker Face forced the knife out of his gut. Gasping, he clawed at her arms for support, his own gun long forgotten by now. She stared into his eyes which had started to glaze over.

"'I want to feel your life's blood leave your body.' Is that not what you said to her, after you had those men repeatedly rape her? I don't care why you did it. Only know that I will make you suffer until your last breath." She drove the knife home again.

They fell to the ground. Not what she planned but Katsugi brought her down with him. The old man had barely enough strength to resist and to clasp his steely fingers around her wrists. Little good his remaining resolve did him.

She made an opening his chest. Red gore painted her hands with the stain that could never be washed away, not for all the soap in the world. Katsugi coughed, hacking up blood. The spray splattered P.F.'s cheeks. He grinned at his one small victory, but it didn't seem to bother her all that much. In fact, by all appearances, Poker Face reveled in it. She liked the smell and touch and taste of blood wherever her senses could reach. Brows furrowed. Parted lips gasping for breath. Heaving chest begging for more air. A single glowing eye. Two white fangs poking through pink gums. Painted hands. Red-spectled face. She smiled.

Poker Face smiled. She smiled like a madwoman. For that is what she is. Mad.

Mad, bad, and dangerous to know.

The dagger hit him just above the heart, almost severing an artery. Poker Face made a hole with her knife. She laughed as her hand plunged into the gaping hole. Her fingers grasped Katsugi's heart.

"Is this how you like?" She gave him a squeeze.

Katsugi could only grit his teeth and groan.

"Tell me. Is this how you like it?" She repeated.

"F-you," he snarled.

"Wrong answer." Poker Face's grasp tightened around the slowly pumping organ. Her fingers tightened around it, squeezing it of every drop of blood.

Katsugi gurgled as if she forced his head under water and began to slowly drown him. His black eyes rolled into the back of his head. She continued to squeeze and squeeze until his heart no longer moved. His body lay still. Moving ever so slowly away from the body, Poker Face got a good look at her latest piece of art. A stiff corpse that hardly resembled a living man, not with the grotesque face he made at the moment of death. Katsugi looked like a monster's mask being all bent up from the agonized contractions he suffered while she squeezed the life out of him.

Her lips parted. She giggled. Then she laughed. She laughed and laughed loudly. Her echoes bounced off every wall. She laughed so hard and so much that her ribs started hurting. With her arms tight around her torso, Poker Face had trouble not falling over the bodies at her feet and rolling around in their blood as she laughed, high off her own madness.

"Put your hands where I can see them!" Yusuke raised his spirit gun.

Poker Face turned, dropping her weapon. Doubtfully because she was surrendering. She glanced at him from over her shoulder. He dry-heaved. There was no way she could look attractive with that much blood on her face. And with that mad grin still plastered on her face, lips red with lipstick and blood, who wouldn't be terrified out of their wits seeing her. She stepped off the set of a horror movie. No, she was a horror movie come to life. With all the messed up pyschosis, the blood-lust, and the knowledge and skill on just how to end a human life, Poker Face could do no better than if she actually tried. They stared at each other for the longest time.

"Really, Detective? I just killed my father. My own flesh and blood. And I didn't even use my demon eye. Imagine what I would do to you and all of your friends," she laughed. Stuffing her hands into her pants pockets, Poker Face sauntered over to the exit. She didn't care that they were waiting with their weapons raised.

"Now boys, don't be rude. You don't want to fight me." She touched her eye-patch.

"This madness ends now," Kurama felt a shiver run down his spine but suppressed it long enough for the goosebumps to disappear. The air changed. Poker Face could not be human. That's what he senses told him. But then they couldn't feel any demonic energy either.

Just what was this woman?

"I'll give you to the count of the ten to get out of my way or you'll end up worse than Mr. Higarugi. I won't show mercy." She slipped her thumb under the eye-patch.

"Yeah right!" Yusuke. "You have _five_ seconds to surrender. I don't care if you're a girl, I will knock your ass down!"

"No, no. You fail to understand. It seems you're detective in title only. There's a time and a place. And _this_," her thumb pushed the patch further away, "This is _neither _the time nor the place. Learn to pick your battles, sunny."

"One!"

"Don't start with me, Urameshi," the multitude of scars were now visible. Jagged, raw as if they were made fresh yesterday. Oddly, her other eye began to close.

"Two!"

"This will be my final warning."

"Three!"

"Very well," she sighed, completely removing the patch.

A bulging thing sat where a human eye should have been. Jagged scars marred her flesh on the left side of her face like tortured sunrays. A sickly, golden yellow iris against an ink-black eyeball glared at them. The iris moved of its own accord…seemingly. It was hard to tell. The eye set in her skull was too big; it looked like it had been squeezed into the eye socket.

"If you don't want to see what my demon eye can I do, I recommend you get out of the way."

"Sick," Kuwabara backed away, covered his mouth with the inside of his elbow while trying not to heave.

"What happened to you?" Yusuke asked, slightly lowering his hand.

"A surgery that went horribly wrong," she hissed.

Kurama touched Yusuke's jacket sleeve. "Perhaps it would be better to wait. To get ourselves straightened out. The police will be here any minute to investigate the gun shots. Neither of us can stay for long."

As if Fate decided to prove his point, police sirens could be heard in the far distance. Getting closer.

"Don't leave town." Yusuke lowered his weapon. "Let's get out of here before we're all arrested."

Poker Face fixed her eye patch back over her left eye. "A very wise decision, Urameshi."


	9. Ch 8: Flower of Carnage

Poker Face was grateful that her black suit covered up all the blood-stains. A quick wash in park restroom got rid of the rest. She sighed with relief when she tore the clothes off her body. The drying blood still felt slick and wet against her hot skin. Dumping the clothes in a plastic bag—pity she'd had to throw the clothes away—she stepped into the shower to wash the remaining sticky residue off her skin. The water turned red, and later on pink as she scrubbed herself clean. Poker Face stayed in there until her fingers and toes looked like ripe prunes.

She snatched up a warm, fuzzy bathrobe and sauntered out of the steamy bathroom. Someone knocked on the door just as Poker Face sat down on the hotel's queen sized bed, the sheets had been recently changed by the crisp feel of them under her petite fingers. Groaning, she got to her feet again and walked to fetch the door while she simultaneously wrapped her wet hair in a towel. Her height was often an inconvenience for her, but she often didn't have to stand on her tip-toes to peer through the door's peep hole to check for ne'er-do-wells. Not surprising but not quite expected either, Sakyo stood outside the door. Cautiously, Poker Face unlocked the door and opened it.

"Sakyo."

"Poker Face."

"What can I do for you this evening? In case you can't see, I was in the middle of drying myself off," she leaned against the door frame.

"Yes, I can see that." He answered nonchalantly.

Strange. He didn't even glance at her body even as the folds of the bathrobe came loose around her chest. His steely eyes were glued on hers. Poker Face sensed something wrong. Sakyo could be cool and collected, he could be serious sometimes, and he always carried with him an air of charm that Poker Face admitted time and time to herself drew her closer to him. But now, tonight, he had none of those things. He stared at her like a predator on the hunt. He didn't bother trying to use fancy ploys or flirtations. He looked like he planned to eat her alive.

"Would you like to come in?" Poker Face pulled the door open wider.

Sakyo was silent as he crossed the threshold. He made himself comfortable in one of the comfy high-backed chairs by the patio doors. The glittering lights of the small city looked like mere embers from this height. A few people scurried around at these late, late hours much like insects. P.F. walked over to the glass door and propped herself against it. She watched as Sakyo reach for a cigarette but didn't lit it.

"Are you going to say something?" Poker Face squared her shoulders. His new goons weren't around, but that didn't mean she should take things so lightly. Not when he acted like this. It didn't scare her. Still, Sakyo's behavior made her nervous nonetheless.

"What did you do this evening?" Sakyo asked, leaning back in his chair and crossed his legs. His gaze shifted to the wall across from him.

"Oh. Just out driving. You should hear my baby purr. It's the most beautiful sound you'll ever hear." She hoped that that would wake Sakyo up, shake up a little. Make him snap out of this foul mood. He barely looked at her. With such a predatory gaze, she thought that he intended to have his way with her. Apparently, that wasn't the case.

"Did you drive around the pier?"

Poker Face tried not to swallow the lump in her throat that suddenly appeared. She backed away from the patio door and sat herself down across from him. She tightened the terry-cloth robe around her.

"And what if I did?" She grabbed the eye-patch sitting in the middle of the table between them. Removing the towel turban, she adjusted the eye-patch over her 'demon eye' and once it was properly covered, she blinked several times. She'd been forced to keep it shut for the past fifteen minutes in order to prevent any _mishaps_.

"Because rumor has it that Akira Katsugi was murdered tonight at Pier 15. And most of his men didn't fare any better. To top it off, Taizo Higarugi is appears to be missing too. He was at a party some people…reported seeing you there with him. Would you like to change your story?"

She could see Sakyo gritting his teeth. She managed to piss him off. Great. There goes her one ally within the Black Black Club. And there was no way she was going to kiss anybody else's ass.

"And if I was, are you going to kill me?" Poker Face knew the business. She screwed up. She became so obsessed after Higarugi said her father's name. Her bloodlust took control of her. She screwed up and forgot to cover up her tracks better. She could get away from the police, but the Black Black Club could prove to be a different story entirely.

"I won't but they might. You cost the Black Black Club a great deal of money tonight, and not just with killing Katsugi. Higarugi had plans with a couple of the other members. We were getting ready to let him into the fold, but you killed him. Didn't you?"

"And if I did?" Poker Face quirked her brow upward.

"Then I don't think I can protect you from their wrath." He answered gruffly. His knuckles went white.

P.F. saw this. She chuckled. "You make sound as if you care."

"I do. To an extent. I enjoy working with you. I enjoy your methods, and had this turned out in a different way, I would have liked to make ours a more permanent partnership. Perhaps not in terms of romantic partnership, though I can't say that I would find the prospect displeasing."

"You're too kind. You're far too generous to me, Mr. Sakyo," Poker Face spat with sarcasm dripping off every word from her lips.

Sakyo finally glanced at her. He glared at her for a second then rose from his chair. "Anything that happens to you after tonight is a direct result of _your_ actions. I can't protect you. I can't help any further than warning you. If I manage to do something for you, it's between you and I. And if you say otherwise, I'll deny it."

"Naturally," P.F. sighed.

"Is that all you have to say to me, Poker Face?"

"Would you like to spend the night?" She picked up his forgotten cigarette and lit it with the lighter she also left on the table. Screw the rules. She took a long drag, not caring if some of the ashes fell on her bathrobe. "Is that what you wanted to hear? Your last chance if what you say is true. You might not get another chance if your organization plans to kill me."

Sakyo sauntered back to her. He took out another cigarette. Pulling up the other chair beside hers, he pressed the end of his cigarette to hers, effectively lighting it without reaching for the lighter. Their faces were so close they almost kissed had the cigarettes not gotten in the way. They sat across from each other, smoking their cigarettes as if their indirect kiss had never happened, and completely disregarding the no smoking sign above the door. Neither one of them cared, and if they did, Poker Face would just willingly pay the extra price for it when she checked out the next afternoon.

Once their cigarettes burned out and discarded into a waste bin, it was all torn clothes and clashing teeth and swirling tongues after that. She never felt more drunk and exhilarated. Killing her father had been the highlight of her night, but this felt like the after party. Sakyo pulled her hair has he tugged her towards him for a mouth-watering kiss. Roughly but not enough to actually hurt. He moved with the ease of a man without ego, as if he had nothing to prove. It was just for pleasure. It was just as much about him as it was about her finding that chilling height and coming down hard and fast from it.

By the dawn's first light, Sakyo was gone. About a couple hours later, so was she. Poker Face packed her car herself, paid the bill, and shot off before the manager could ask her any further questions, never mind the no-smoking policy she broke. She sped for the highway. The crowded city made her nervous. Poker Face found herself glancing around the streets and inside the building windows, checking for snipers.

No, no, they wouldn't kill her that easily. They wouldn't give her a quick, painless death. She knew them. She knew better. She had to get away and fast, even though it would make her look even more guilty. By the time she reached the highways, her discomfort didn't subside. Being out in the open made things worse. Her hands clenched around the steering wheel every time a non-descript black van or car passed her on the road. She drove and drove and drove until she needed gas and sleep.

She repeated this pattern the next day, heading towards Kyoto. Poker Face…made a promise. A promise to a woman that if Katsugi died at her hands, she'd return and visit and place the woman's favorite flowers on her grave. It wasn't a promise Poker Face made with her while this woman still breathed; it was one she made for herself, to keep some piece of herself sane. Homicidal tendencies or not, even Poker Face had a heart. Some of the times.

Pulling into a hotel not quite up to her standards but fit her needs for peace and quiet without compromising her, Poker Face checked in. Her foreign car didn't look too out of place. She kept her head done and dressed down when she left her room. A pair of black jeans, some knee-high boots, a lacy top and blazer, and a matching black fedora. She said nothing to desk clerk and walked to her car. She drove into the city, parked in the nearest garage, and made her way down several streets. Convenient flower vendor was convenient as she almost passed him completely. Poker Face had to do a double take lest she pass him without buying those flowers she promised that woman. She paid the man too much, but refused to take her change.

"Keep it," Poker Face grabbed the brown paper-wrapped bouquet of white spider mums and sauntered away.

She marched on with her head held high, even if she occasionally glanced around to check for would-be assassins. Poker Face marched without saying a word to anyone, even when men who would have normally grabbed her attention and held it longer than most, handsome and rich-looking. She marched even as her heart started racing. The nearest threat could be behind, just around the corner, above her, beside her, lurking and waiting in the darkened alleys. She put a target on her back, and she had no regrets. Izin would just have to accept her apologies in the afterlife for not taking his revenge serious enough.

The cemetery appeared like a stark reminder of where she came from, and where she'd be going. All that was missing was a stone statue of a grim reaper pointing at her with its skeletal finger. Poker Face walked right in. Her boots quickly became scuffed as she shuffled down the beaten path. Monuments glared at her like hungry ghosts. A chill ran down her spine. She feel eyes staring at her, burning a giant hole into the back of her head. The thing she worried about while she kept shuffling past the grave markers lovingly persevered and decorated with presents from the living was that if those eyes that glared at her belonged to the jealous spirits of the dead or some vicious thing waiting to strike her down. Either way, those eyes didn't stop her from walking further, deeper into the cemetery.

The gray weather, the utter, impenetrable silence of the graveyard, the glaring markers for the dead to stare back at her, mocking and sneering, preserved the common characteristics of barrenness, inhospitality, and misery. Poker Face pulled the collar of her blazer up to protect her neck from the unusually blistering wind-chill that threatened to tear her to pieces, slicing through her flesh and leave her bleeding in the cold. The eyes continued to follow her as she continued down the lonely rows of markers, some ornate and some plain. The plain ones grew in numbers down the rows, the place where more of the not-so-fortunate and less-fortunate could be buried. A certain woman rested here among the poor. Distant relatives had enough empathy to give her a decent burial instead of letting the state put her ashes in an unmarked site. Suppose Poker Face should be grateful.

Just as she drew nearly to the sight, Poker Face stopped in her tracks. The moment she had been dreading drew close at hand. She looked around one final time for a grim reaper pointing at her with its skeleton hand. Finding no such spectres, she turned around.

It wasn't a grim reaper, but they looked grim enough. A tall lanky one in the middle, a fat, squat one to the middle's right and a giant beef-cake stood on his left. They bore no weapons but their smiles held daggers in them. Poker Face didn't bother reaching for her earrings. She would have no time and her bullets would do nothing against them. She wasn't strong enough; not in her current state.

"The Black Black Club would like to send you a message." The tall, lanky one sneered with hunger in his eyes.

"I'm all ears."

Her 'special eye' didn't see it coming. The middle one flashed in front of her. A blink was all the time he needed to move suddenly in front of her. His hard fist felt like solid steel as it rammed into her stomach, bruising the lower ribs. Poker Face gritted her teeth. Her fingers clenched around the bouquet of spider mums. Slowly, she raised her head.

"Is that all you got?" She spat through gritted teeth.

He smirked and round-housed kicked her into the ground. The grit of the paved walkway scratched her cheek, ruining the foundation she had so pain-stakingly took the time to apply to the whole of her face this morning. Her fingers loosened away from the bouquet and Poker Face pulled herself up to her elbows. The second and third appeared on either side of her now. She didn't have time to prepare herself for their blows. They took their sweet time beating her into the ground over and over and over again until she was spitting blood. She could count the number of broken ribs, the ones that were simply fractured or bruised, and the wounds that left sucking wounds in her chest, ones that would kill her if they didn't end it all quickly enough with strangulation, a quick slice to her throat or a stab to her heart, or just plainly beat her skull into the pavement. She could see it now. Her brain matter and blood painting some poor dead person's gravesite. Just another body in a cemetery.

For a while, when she closed her eyes and didn't bother putting up a fight, Poker Face thought she went unconscious. It was just long enough for them to wait for her to get up and see if she would put up a better fight. They'd heard rumors of what she and her 'special eye' could do, like it seemed to make a difference. She had been fighting low-level demons—never took the chance to improve. Like eating the hearts of demons would be enough to make her more powerful. Obviously, it didn't. She was no better than a human at this point. Why fight? The one time she was honest, it was to herself, and here, she admitted that she stood no chance.

Nevertheless, if she was going down, she would at least try to take a couple of them with her. Just so she wouldn't go to hell alone. Shakily, Poker Face got to her feet. She turned. Lungs burning, stomach aching, knees knocking, P.F. strode—limbed—towards them. Her human eye was nearly swollen shut; she could literally feel the blood pooling beneath the flesh and purpling her skin. She smirked through bleeding gums, and withdrew two dice from her pocket. She had enough energy to fill both up with explosive blasts that would send at least two of them, if not all three, sky-high and they could march through the gates of hell together. But while she charged them up, Poker Face couldn't see the sword the tall one summoned out of thin air. Her eye had been nearly swollen shut and she didn't think to remove the eye patch, not if they could find a way to counter-attack or keep her from removing the cover all-together. They feared it, just as they should, which was why they never gave her the opportunity to show it off.

P.F. charged for them, the dice almost loaded. The sword she didn't see coming, sliced cleanly through sinew and bone. She couldn't remember if she screamed or not but it hurt like hell all the same. Disconnected from the energy flow from her body, instead of blowing up on impact with the pavement, the die fell useless in the palm of her bloody hand attached to the arm he severed. Poker Face grabbed her injured, bleeding stump of her shoulder, and started crawling. She couldn't quite reach it, but she got close enough. All three surrounded her as she sat and braced herself against a plain old grave marker.

"Any last words, little girly?" The fat, stout one chuckled, licking his lips.

"Can I…have one last cigarette?" Poker Face gasped. Her eye watered but she wasn't crying.

The three demons looked at each other. The other two conversed with the tall one in hushed whispers. Their conference lasted only a few short moments, a few short _agonizing_ moments. The tall one walked right up to her feet, leering down at her. She supposed he did that so he could get one last look at her heavy rack.

"I supposed you can have a hit before you go," he reached into his jacket and plucked a long sweet-smelling cigarette from a carton and a lighter.

Poker Face grabbed it with her remaining arm. Blood trickled heavily for the split second it took for her put the cigarette between her teeth. The demon lit it for her. She returned her good hand, her remaining hand, back over the wound. She passed the smoke through the opposite corner of her bruised lip, inhaling and exhaling slowly as possible and savored the last drag to very last ember falling on her rumbled black slacks. Spitting out the used cigarette into the grass, Poker Face flipped her hair so that it was out of the way to make room for a clean cut. She turned her head so she could get a look at that special grave marker. The bouquet of flowers she spend too much money on were tossed far away, probably spotted red with her blood. Too bad. Her mother would have really liked them.

Taking in one last good look and closing her eye, she sighed. "Make it quick."

She heard all three of them snicker with delight before utter darkness took her over.


End file.
